Late to the Game
by markyc58
Summary: In Life, as in Baseball, timing counts. And even if the game isn't going your way, as Yogi Berra once said, "It ain't over till it's over"; as our favorite 'baseball boy' is about to find out...of course, he does it the hard way...
1. Q's and A's

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…

* * *

**Chapter 1 "Q's and…A's"**

Ken Murata, the former Daikenja, the Great Sage of Shin Makoku, also known as the Great Demon Kingdom, was furious.

No. It was worse than that.

He was _livid_.

Pushing his glasses up on his nose with one finger, his mouth in a tight line, he stared down at Ulrike as she apologized profusely, her pale cheeks red with embarrassment.

"I am _so sorry_, Geika. I have _tried, _but Shinou Heika _will not_ answer. No matter what I do, he remains silent."

The double-black smiled a smile that would have made even a shark from _Earth_ turn tail and run. "It's not your fault, Ulrike. Why don't you take a break and let _me_ have a try?"

Blinking up at him with wide amethyst eyes, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. She _knew_ something _terrible_ had happened…was _happening_…and that it involved Yuuri Heika…and that _somehow_ Shinou Heika had a hand in it…but…

Murata's smile softened as he watched the 800 year-old medium bite her lip in indecision. "Don't worry, Ulrike…I won't be _too_ hard on him…after all, it's not like I can _KILL HIM AGAIN_…is it?"

Eyes widening as her mouth formed a little 'o', she shook her head, then bowed deeply, her long tresses forming a river of silver at her feet. "As…you wish…Geika." She stammered, and then quickly took her leave, shutting the heavy double-doors of the Temple's inner sanctum behind her to ensure that there could be no prying eyes.

Smile fading, and eyes now hidden by his spectacles reflective glare, Murata sighed deeply. '_Coward', _is what he thought. However..."You might as well come out…I'm not leaving." When nothing happened, he continued, anyway. "I told you once that I had grown very fond of Shibuya and I warned you _not_ to do anything to hurt him…that one day your _meddling_ would have consequences that even _you_ would not be able to foresee."

"If I had left it up to those two _idiots_, nothing would have _ever _happened...besides, I've done very little…_really_…just whispered some vague '_nothings'_ into Von Bielefeld Waltrana Kyo's ear. He took it from there."

Murata turned at the sound of the voice to face the blond-haired specter of the Demon Tribe's first King that had materialized behind him. "Yes, he most certainly _did_…" he replied in irritation, and then continued flatly, "I'm sure that you're aware that the engagement has been called off…but there has been another…_development_."

Shinou's eyebrow rose slightly as he smirked and cocked his head to the side, his clear bright blue eyes showing no remorse for his subterfuge whatsoever. "Development…?" He questioned, his tone bordering on amusement, "…Explain, my sage."

Raising his head slightly until his dark eyes became visible to the other, along with the spark of anger within them, the double-black's own voice held a warning note. "I find no humor in this situation, at all_, Shinou Heika_. And, this time, it will be _you_ cleaning up your little mess…not _me_. _Do you understand_?"

~oOo~

Yuuri Shibuya, 27th Maoh of Shin Makoku, sighed forlornly, his obsidian eyes scanning the bleak winter landscape outside through the kitchen window of his small, Japanese 'two-story' without really seeing much of anything. His mother, Miko (_please, call me 'Jennifer'!_) Shibuya, went about her favorite task in the kitchen (making her 'famous-in-two-worlds' curry) and humming to herself a new ditty she had heard, seemingly without a care-in-the-world, but with the unhappy sound from her youngest son, she glanced his way, her brown eyes softening in concern. There was something deeply troubling her 'Yuu-chan'; he wasn't sleeping and he wasn't eating and he wasn't talking and he wasn't _playing baseball_…it was all very confusing, as he had been home just a week before (although she wasn't sure how much time had actually elapsed in the Great Demon Kingdom as time seemed to flow differently there) and had been in such high spirits; especially after the little _'talk'_ that they had had…

Then, two days ago, he had shown up at the front door, dripping wet, as usual, looking as if both worlds had ended and he hadn't been told…pale-faced, agitated and silent. He had barely spoken a word…even Shouri's (her eldest son) ranting-and-ravings had failed to get him to open up and tell them what was wrong. Her husband, Shouma Shibuya, had met with even less success when he had tried after returning from work later on in the day.

That night, after everyone had retired and silence had fallen over the usually happy home, Shouma had commented that _if he were a betting man_, and he _wasn't_ (being in the banking business, _that _would be rather silly – you were supposed to _save_ money, not throw it away needlessly) he would almost _swear_ that his youngest son was suffering from a broken heart. It was then, and _only _then, that his wife had told him of the conversation held a few days before between herself and Yuuri – after all, she _had_ promised _not_ to say anything…but now…

"What was the conversation about?" Shouma had asked, his brow creased with worry. Miko had looked over at him from her side of the futon with a sad smile.

"Well, you see…he wanted to know…"

~oOo~

Life in Shin Makoku had settled down into a familiar and comfortable pattern after the episode of the Divine Sword and the return of Shouri to Earth and Saralegi Heika to his kingdom. Slowly, but surely, Yuuri's magic had returned, as did Shinou's – it had been most amusing to everyone concerned (but _especially _to the reincarnated Great Sage, Ken Murata, who watched with a curiously wicked gleam in his eyes) as the Original King's size grew in accordance with the return of said power – until the Shrine Maidens began making such a fuss over him as he reached what could only be described as the 'toddler' size. He was 'cute', one had to give him that (even Von Voltaire Gwendal Kyo had a blush on his cheeks at the sight) but his annoying personality grew right along with his body, and soon had his old friend (and everyone else) sighing in resignation. It seemed the 4000 years _before Yuuri_, and the three years _after Yuuri_, had done nothing to temper _that_ in the least.

Still, something_ important _had changed. Yuuri couldn't help but acknowledge that fact. Something seemed 'off' to him; out-of-kilter – not quite 'right'. He'd made a couple of attempts at asking if anyone else had noticed, but the confused looks that he received soon squelched any further questions that wanted to escape. He'd finally realized that _he _was the one who had changed – that the _strangeness_ he felt only happened when he was alone…with Conrad.

_Conrart; _he mentally corrected himself. He had been trying to break the habit he had of calling his Godfather by the name he had been given (mistakenly) when he had arrived on Earth, but it was difficult. He _liked_ 'Conrad'…not that he _didn't_ like 'Conrart'…

In truth, he would have 'liked' the man no matter _what_ his name…

~oOo~

"_Is there something on your mind, Yuu-chan?" His mother had asked._

_The black-haired teen had jumped nearly a foot in the air as the relative silence of the living space was broken. He didn't respond to the question right away; his mother had almost given up on her expectation of an answer when he began to speak quietly, choosing his words carefully as he went along. "You know…when I first went to Shin Makoku, the Great Demon Kingdom, I made quite a fuss about being engaged to another guy…I mean…it was just __**weird**__. The whole idea of it made me…really __**uncomfortable**__…"_

_Miko Shibuya had nodded. "I understand…" she commiserated, "Go on…"_

"_Then…so many things happened; the adventure with Gwendal in the desert, Hube and Nicola…and I realized that __**who**__ you love isn't what's important – love is a gift – it shouldn't matter what package it comes in – after all, what's __**more**__ important, the __**wrapping paper**__ or what's __**inside**__ the box?" Yuuri had scratched his head, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Am I making any sense?"_

_Miko had merely smiled and nodded and waited for him to continue._

"_Anyway…after I thought about it some more, I realized that the way I felt was entirely due to what I'd been exposed to on Earth as I was growing up…society's mores and prejudices…but that I'd never really considered the question for myself…"_

"_And…?" Miko had gently prodded._

_Yuuri had blown out a soft breath, gathering his courage. It was now, or never. "I came to the conclusion that I'd been fooling myself. I'd always believed…always took for granted…that I would get a girlfriend sooner or later…after all, that's what boys do, right? There were…are…plenty of pretty girls…really __**beautiful**__ women…in Shin Makoku…and as the King, I probably could have my pick; even as __**inexperienced**__ and __**clumsy**__ as I am…Gwendal even as much as __**said so**__ when we were being transported to the courthouse in Suberara…"_

"_But…?"_

"_I've never seen them as anything more than friends. I've never been interested in them as anything more than that."_

"_I see." Miko's eyes had softened as she looked at her youngest. She had an idea where this conversation was heading – she could only hope that she was wise enough to help her son find his way – whatever that might turn out to be; and be there to lend a shoulder to help with whatever hurt might lay along that way. She knew from experience that love was never easy – to obtain or to keep – it was a bumpy road, but well worth the effort. However, some roads were bumpier than others. "So…?"_

"_So…?" Owlish eyes had blinked at her, unsure of what she was asking._

_Miko had cocked her head at her son, a twinkle in her brown eyes. "So…is there someone that you __**are**__ interested in?"_

_Yuuri had immediately gone an interesting shade of red all the way to the tips of his ears, causing his mother to glomp him and squeal loudly. "There is! There is! Isn't there!?"_

"_Mom, please! This is SERIOUS!"_

_Releasing him, his mother pouted. "Call me 'Mama'!" She had demanded, apologizing almost in the same breath. "I'm sorry, Yuu-chan. Go on."_

_Turning away, the young man had frowned. "There is someone…"_

"_I take it that __**someone**__ is a __**male**__…and it's __**not**__ Wolfram…" She had watched as her son's shoulders slumped and his head dropped._

"_I tried…I really did…After I knew that I…liked __**guys**__ a lot more than __**girls**__…but there was just…__**nothing there**__…every time that I looked at Wolfram, all I could see was…"_

"_A friend…" She had finished for him and watched him nod._

"_I know that I'm not being fair to Wolfram. He's a really good guy and I care about him a lot and he deserves to be with someone who really loves him – who's __**in love**__ with him…"_

"_But he cares about you and you don't want to hurt his feelings; is that it?"_

"_Yeah…I guess…"_

"_Is __**he**__ in love with __**you**__?" _

_Yuuri had been totally startled by the question; he had stared at her, wide-eyed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish-out-of-water a few times before finally snapping shut. Truthfully, he'd never really considered that as a possibility; hadn't wanted to, chalking up any so-called 'feelings' the blond had shown towards him as being due to nothing more than friendship or a warped sense of 'duty'. "I…don't…know…" He had answered, his mouth suddenly dry, "Why else would he stay?" He had mumbled to himself, trying desperately to think of __**another**__ reason and coming up empty. He had been starting to panic when he had heard his mother sigh as she came to sit in the chair across from him at the table._

_She was quiet for a moment, considering all the possible answers to her own question; then she had smiled in sudden understanding. "He's the youngest son of the former Demon Queen; yes?"_

"_Yeah…"_

"_His oldest brother is a General, a superb military tactician and leader. His middle brother is a champion swordsman, a battle-hardened veteran and a model soldier. Doesn't leave much for the youngest, does it?" Her gentle smile had widened a bit as she continued. "Of course, if one is engaged to the King…that's one way to 'stand out', don't you think?"_

_Yuuri's mouth had dropped open in shock, as his mother's words had registered._

"_Always standing in his brothers' shadows must be very hard for him. It's no wonder he clings to the one thing that draws attention his way – that makes him feel important."_

"_I…see…" Yuuri's shoulders drooped further. "Then…how can I break the engagement without hurting his feelings…or more importantly, his __**pride**__?"_

_It was time to be blunt. "You can't…" she had answered, and watched as the boy blanched. Taking a deep breath, Miko Shibuya had continued, "…but what you __**can**__ do is to show him that his importance has nothing to do with you – or being your fiancé – and everything to do with him being himself. He has a worth all his own – he just doesn't realize it." Her expression softened further. "You can't take all the hurt away, Yuu-chan, but it can be tempered."_

_Yuuri had looked at his mother, his large, dark eyes showing his uncertainty and his desperation. "Even if I can figure out how to do that, it still doesn't guarantee that…" He had flushed again, an even darker shade of red, his voice loosing volume as his confidence flagged with each word spoken. "You see, he's older…and so handsome…and strong…and perfect…and I'm just…me…and…"_

"_Conrad." It wasn't a question. Yuuri had blinked at her in surprise._

"_**How**__ do you __**do**__ that!?"_

_Miko had smiled. "It's a 'mom' thing." She explained, then added, "Somewhere in this conversation is a question waiting to be asked, isn't there?"_

_The ebony-haired teen had fidgeted for a moment, his gaze flitting from wall-to-ceiling-to-floor in his nervousness; and then he had looked back at her, his heart laid bare in his dark eyes. "I need to know…how do you…how can you tell…when you're…in love…"_


	2. First Pitch Curveball!

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…

* * *

**Chapter 2 "First Pitch…Curveball!"**

_When he had first returned to Shin Makoku after __**'the talk'**__, Yuuri had been filled with a kind of nervous excitement that bordered on giddiness, and an insanely desperate longing to see his brown-haired, cinnamon-eyed protector before facing off with his (hopefully) soon-to-be __**ex-fiancé**__. Having his bubble burst was not pleasant; he was sorely disappointed when he popped up in the fountain in the courtyard of The Great One's Temple to find only Gunter and Ulrike waiting for him, Murata going unnoticed as he waited and watched, frowning, in the shadows._

_Looking around pensively, the dark-eyed teen couldn't stop himself from blurting out the question, "Where's Conrad?" to which Gunter had easily replied, as he handed his Liege the towel that he had been holding, that Weller Kyo had been called away in regards to some skirmish along the border and that Von Bielefeld Wolfram Kyo (the __**'brat'**__, as Gunter was fond of calling him) was with Princess Greta – the both of them were having tea and cookies with Lady Celi – and that, if His Majesty wished, he would send a message to Blood Pledge Castle to alert them, and Von Voltaire Gwendal Kyo, of his return._

"_No!" Yuuri had almost shouted the word, and then flushed in embarrassment at the almost shocked look on the lavender-eyed man's face, quickly stammering out that it wasn't necessary to go through all that fuss. In truth, he just wanted a little more time to try and get his thoughts together; and he was also hoping that showing up unannounced might give Wolfram less time to get so wound-up before they had a chance to even start their (long overdue) __**'conversation'**__ – sort of 'the element of surprise' approach, if you will. It was a long-shot, but it might make the difference between his only being 'slightly toasted' or 'fried to a crisp' by the fire-wielding Mazoku._

_He wasn't looking forward to __**either**__ result._

~oOo~

_Enough_ was _enough_. Miko Shibuya had waited patiently for two days for 'Yu-chan' to 'spill-the-beans' as to what was wrong, but nothing seemed forthcoming from the tight-lipped teen. Seeing her youngest so upset was upsetting her and the whole family – the situation was _intolerable_ and it was time that _she_ put a stop to it, _right now!_

Turning off the burner underneath the curry on the stove to keep it from burning, she marched the short distance from the cooking area to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair and sat down, her lips pursed with determination. Taking a deep breath, she started with the sweetest voice she could muster.

"Yu-chan…" No response. Her eyebrow rose. She tried again, a little firmer this time.

"Yuuri…" Still there was nothing. A frown and an eye twitch.

"Yuuri Shibuya!" She bellowed, slapping both hands on the table for good measure, "I am your _mother_ and I will _not_ be ignored!"

Wide eyes and flailing limbs were all that could be seen as the chair that held the startled youth tipped over backwards; the resounding thud was followed immediately by a groan, then dark eyes peeked over the table edge. Miko slumped back in her chair with a sigh. "You can't go on this way, Yu-chan. Please, tell me what's wrong?"

Slowly, the teen rose, bringing the chair with him. Sliding back onto the now righted seat, he looked out the window as though he was afraid to meet her eyes, answering in a voice barely above a whisper. "I called off the engagement."

"_Oh…_I see…" '_Well, that explains some things.' _She thought to herself. "Was it…_bad_?" She was surprised when he shook his head.

"No…actually, it wasn't anything like I expected…"

~oOo~

_He had taken his time walking to Blood Pledge Castle from the Temple, having convinced Gunter that transportation and a larger escort was not needed – he would be fine; after all, both structures were within viewing distance of each other – a quarter-mile apart, at most. The weather was perfect, the country was at peace, walking was good exercise, and besides __**Gunter**__ was with him, right? What could __**possibly**__ happen? Stuttering and blushing, the older man had quickly given in, his reaction making Yuuri feel a little guilty knowing that he had ulterior motives behind the praise he was giving, even though every word of it was true. For all his theatrics, Gunter was a renowned Scholar, a Teacher and one of the best Swordsmen in the Kingdom…and was fiercely loyal to the Maoh – no…to __**Yuuri **__– and Yuuri __**knew**__ it__**, **__and was extremely grateful for the fact._

_However…there was one more __**skilled**__…more __**loyal**__…more…__**'everything'**__…_

_**Conrad…**_

_The mere __**thought **__of the soldier __made the young King's heart race._

~oOo~

"So…what happened?" Miko asked, her eyes going wide. Yuuri shook his head and sighed, unable to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. "You were right…sort of. Wolfram is a _lot_ smarter than anyone gives him credit for, including me…and a lot more _devious_, too. When I got to the Castle, I pulled him aside into one of the conference rooms…I didn't want to have _that_ particular _'conversation'_ in my private bedchambers…it would have been too…_awkward_…" His mother nodded her understanding. "I asked him point-blank what his feelings for me were…Believe me _that_ took a lot of courage…"

The woman's brown eyes widened even further as she leaned forward in anticipation of his next words. "And…?"

"You're not going to believe this…"

~oOo~

_The double-black watched, open-mouthed and slack-jawed as the blond, still laughing and holding his stomach, tried desperately to straighten up from his hunched over position, tears of mirth pooling in the corners of his dancing emerald eyes. Snapping his mouth shut, the King had waited until the other had gotten his breathing under control, then had blurted out the first thing that came to mind…_

"_What the Hell, Wolfram! What's so…__**funny**__?!"_

_Coughing into his hand, the blond had cleared his throat, an impish grin on his face. "I'm sorry, Yuuri. It's just that…well, I was wondering if you were __**ever**__ going to get the courage to even __**ask**__ me that question. You are a __**'wimp'**__, after all." The grin had faded, to be replaced by a somber expression. "You want to break the engagement, am I right?"_

_Being asked that question straight-out was __**not**__ something the young Monarch had been expecting, and he had found himself unable to answer, his mind totally blank. Wolfram had merely sighed, shaking his head._

"_It's all right." Leaning back in the overstuffed chair, he had continued. "I __**do**__ love you, Yuuri. You are my King, Greta's father, my best friend…an idiot and a wimp…" he smirked as Yuuri sent him a heated glare, "…and probably the best Ruler that we've had since The Great One. However…" Here he had paused, a thoughtful expression taking over his face as he searched for the right words. "If you're asking if I am __**in love**__ with you…the answer is…__**no**__."_

"_Then…why…?"_

_The youngest of Lady Celi's children had shot him a bemused look as if he should be able to figure it all out himself. When the confusion on Yuuri's face hadn't dissipated, he had sighed again, and proceeded to explain._

~oOo~

"You're right…I _don't_ believe it!" The brown-haired woman sat there in shock, "I was…_wrong_?!"

Her son's head dropped into his hands. Only _his_ mother…"No; he _was_ using me to get attention – _at first_ – but apparently that changed somewhere along the way." Raising his head, he continued, still avoiding her eyes. "He told me that once he had gotten over the anger and his wounded pride…That after the incident at the Church…" He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as the memories and emotions of that time came flooding back; Gunter's poisoning, the taking of Conrad's arm – the betrayal and the loss that he had felt when his knight had remained behind in Dai Shimeron – and then continued in a softer voice, "He said that that was when he decided that the best thing that he could do was to stay by my side as my 'official' fiancé, even knowing that there was no future for us in that regard."

"He knew about…?"

Yuuri nodded slightly, but still refused to look her straight in the face. "Apparently, he knew long before I did."

Miko Shibuya frowned, pursing her lips in concentration as she thought about what her youngest had told her. "He was trying to protect you, wasn't he? As your fiancé, he could go where Conrad couldn't…and as long as you had an 'official' fiancé…" She didn't have to finish the statement before Yuuri was nodding, again.

"Yes, that's why we decided to keep the 'breakup', for lack of a better word, a secret; a least, for a while. We were holding Peace Negotiations with some of the remaining Human countries that hadn't yet signed on to the alliance, and as Wolfram put it, as long as I was 'engaged', I wouldn't be overrun by suitors coming out of the woodwork trying to vie for my 'favors'. I would be free and clear to focus my 'limited concentration on the task-at-hand'…that's a quote, by the way."

His mother's frown deepened. "It sounds as if he was okay with breaking the engagement." She stated, confusion embracing the words that followed. "I don't understand…why are you so upset?"

Swallowing heavily, her second son finally turned to gaze at her dead-on, a sad smile on his face even as the tears that he had been trying to fight began to slide slowly down his cheeks.

"Well, you see…"

~oOo~

"_Married…? __**Conrad**__ is getting…__**married**__?" The message that he had been holding had fluttered to the floor unheeded as shock and disbelief had taken hold, all color draining from his already pale face as Wolfram looked on in incredulity. Bending over, the blond had snatched up the small piece of parchment, reading it quickly, hoping that Yuuri had gotten the translation wrong…_

_It was when he raised his head and their eyes had met that the teen's world had come crashing down…._


	3. Breaking Ball

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…

* * *

**Chapter 3 "Breaking Ball"**

Miko Shibuya sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea that had long gone cold. 'Yu-chan' had disappeared into his room very soon after he had dropped his bombshell; checking on him a little later had led her to discover that he had finally cried himself to sleep.

The whole state of affairs made her heart _hurt_. Every mother wanted their child to be healthy and happy and loved; in her case, even more so. Her youngest carried _so_ much responsibility on his shoulders; such a _heavy_ burden. After all, he was only seventeen (soon to be eighteen) and had already been a _King_ for almost three years. He had the care and welfare of all of his subjects to look out for – in reality, a whole separate _world_ – because whatever changes he made in Shin Makoku had a ripple effect, and were felt by all, human and Mazoku alike, no matter where they called home. She remembered what he had told her about the Forbidden Boxes and what had happened in the country called Caloria – the destruction of its coastline as the one box had been opened and the immense power that had been captured within had been released and had radiated outward. That was boiling the metaphor down to a literal level she knew, but it proved the point. She also knew what had happened _then_ haunted Yuuri even_ now_.

She sighed. Shouri would also be a King somewhere down the line as well, but of the Mazoku of Earth. As far as she was concerned, her eldest had gotten the better end-of-the-bargain. Being older was just the beginning of his good fortune. He was also being personally trained by the current King, Bob, to take over his duties when he retired. What's more, he would be doing so in a place he was accustomed to – while Yuuri had had to 'learn' a new language and new customs (some of which left her shaking her head) and had to brave the loss of all modern 'conveniences' (she still wondered, did they _have _indoor plumbing? _Toilets_ seemed to be pretty important in the scheme of things if how he first was transported to The Great Demon Kingdom was any indication) and _that_ was just the _beginning_. No…it wasn't fair, any way that you looked at it; but what was done could not be undone.

All thoughts which brought her back to the problem-at-hand. Feeling helpless was not something that Miko Shibuya was used to – it didn't fit into her beliefs or her personality – but now, she was at a loss. Even her_ best_ curry couldn't fix _this_.

Staring at the empty chair across the table, she sighed again and shook her head.

"Ken-chan, _where_ are you when we _need_ you?"

~oOo~

At the Temple, Murata sneezed.

Raising an eyebrow, the ebony-haired teen blinked a few times, then readjusted his glasses and went back to reading the papers that he had been handed a few minutes before.

_What are you planning, Shinou, my old friend? _He pondered, his frown deepening as his dark eyes scanned the last few lines. The information that they contained seemed innocuous enough; filling in some of the gaps left in the wake of the first message that had been received regarding the news of Weller Conrart Kyo's 'engagement'.

The fiancée's name was Alexandria Taggert – she was called 'Ali' for short. She, too, was half-Mazoku; apparently a cousin somewhere down the line in the Von Bielefeld family tree (many-times removed) and that was where they had met – at the Von Bielefeld Estate – supposedly during the escapade of the forced duel between Wolfram and Yuuri that had been instigated by Wolfram's Uncle, Waltrana and his attempted 'coup' against the Throne. She had no claim to any of the family's holdings or fortune; instead she had been employed by the family and had lived on the grounds in a modest home. Her 'occupation' however, had been mysteriously left blank.

It was also noted that she had family in one of the border villages. A Great-Aunt and Uncle on her Mother's side; since Weller Kyo patrolled the borders on a regular basis, meeting up there wouldn't have been a hardship, and was most likely what had transpired.

According to all accounts, this 'relationship' had been going on for some time, had flourished, and was now moving on to the inevitable conclusion – _marriage_.

The double-black's eyes narrowed. Something just wasn't adding up; but, until he knew more, there was little that he could do. Shaking his head, he decided a visit to Ulrike was in order; after all, he had an errant King to find, whether he wanted to, or not. "Sorry, Shibuya…" He muttered an apology to the empty air as he began to make his way reluctantly down the corridor towards the medium's quarters, "…it looks like rough waters lie ahead for you, my friend."

~oOo~

Yuuri awoke with a start, not quite sure of the reason why. Still exhausted, horribly depressed and bleary-eyed from the copious amount of tears that he had shed and unable to recapture the remnants of sleep, he decided that perhaps a hot bath would help him at least relax enough to nap a little longer before he had to face a new day – and more questions from his worried family. He really wanted to be able to ignore the cause of his upset _altogether_; but that was a child's wish, and he was no longer a child – even though, right now, he _wished_ he was.

He wouldn't be hurting like this if that were the case.

Trudging down the hall to the bathroom through a still silent house, he noted that it was _very_ early – just shy of dawn – and was glad for it. Maybe he could get his bath and get back in the bed before anyone was the wiser.

He should have known better.

The distressed teen had no more than removed his pajamas and slipped a toe into the warm water waiting so invitingly in the tub before the swirling began and he was pulled under…


	4. Changeup

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…

* * *

**Chapter 4 "Changeup"**

Yosak Gurrier sighed tiredly, rolling his head as he tried to work out the kinks in his neck; the hot water and hovering steam of the bathhouse slowly easing his tension and loosening the knots in his shoulders and legs. As a result, the orange-haired half-Mazoku found his eyelids becoming heavy and he drifted into a light doze, his body relaxing further into the fragrant water and his head falling back to rest against the cool, smooth marble-like stone.

The spy had been out on assignment for three (_very _long) weeks, hunting down a roving band of ne'er-do-wells, mostly humans, who made their living by raiding the settlements along Shin Makoku's borders – taking food, clothing and whatever weapons that they could find (which were few; swords, and the training to use them, were expensive. Most of the villages were inhabited by farmers; they weren't wealthy by any stretch-of-the-imagination) – or if no raids were possible, by outright thievery, stopping and robbing travelers on the roadways. A few had even resorted to poaching – there were other protected species in Shin Makoku besides the Dragons, of which the young King was so fond – but that was a much more dangerous gambit, especially if you didn't know what you were doing. You could talk your way out of trouble with a human (usually) or a Mazoku (sometimes); reasoning with a wounded and frightened animal wasn't going to happen. He knew of at least four idiots who had lost their lives as a result of such a misadventure; sure, it was undoubtedly the ultimate penalty one could pay for such a crime and might be considered harsh by some, but as far as he was concerned, if it happened, it was well-deserved. He considered the fact that the Kingdom hadn't had to pay for the 'summary executions' a bonus. He smirked; he could almost _hear_ what 'bou-chan' would say about _that_ line of reasoning – not that he would be _stupid_ enough to make the comment in front of the tender-hearted Ruler to begin with.

Thinking about the young double-black had the handsome male's smirk turning into a slight frown. The first thing that he had done when he had returned to Blood Pledge Castle, after stabling his horse, was to report to Von Voltaire Gwendal Kyo to brief him on the outcome of his assignment. He had noticed on his way to the General's office the strange 'buzz' snaking its way through the Castle, the overall excitement clinging to the atmosphere and the constant whispering of the maids. He wasn't ready to hear the cause of it, however. The shock of the news had left him speechless.

After the shock had worn off, the anger and the hurt had swiftly set in; hurt because he hadn't been told by his _best friend_ what was going on, and anger as he wondered why said friend would even _start_ such a 'dalliance' in the first place, since he _knew_ who _really_ held the Captain's heart, even if the other was loathe to admit it. It was that very thought, along with the cold, hard knowledge garnered from a shared past, that knocked those feelings into submission and replaced them with a rousing dose of suspicion.

_Something was not right. _And Shin Makoku's leading spy was nothing if not resourceful – he was going to find out what that _something_ was.

Because just imagining the pain that he would see in the wide, coal-colored innocent eyes of the King if his _'Lion'_ went through with this farce made the cross-dressing soldier's stomach want to twist.

Yosak had no more than erased _that_ horrible image from his mind's eye before the water in front of him began to churn wildly and a dark shadow arose from beneath its surface, accompanied by the sound of splashing and the urgent intake of air. Bright blue eyes snapping open in surprise, he blinked rapidly to clear his blurred vision even as his somewhat sluggish brain tried to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. No details were visible through the heavy mist, but they really weren't necessary; the secret agent would have recognized _that_ outline anywhere.

His heart dropped to his toes even as he managed to smile and call out in a pleasant tone, "Welcome back, Your Majesty."

~oOo~

"I'm sorry." The young female's voice broke the quiet of the rolling coach as she stared at the tall brunet sitting across from her, the sadness in her eyes reflecting the truth of her words as she spoke them – it wasn't the first time she had apologized, and probably wouldn't be the last. The soldier sighed, putting the open book he had been reading page-side down on the seat next to him before raising his gaze to meet hers, a rueful smile on his almost painfully handsome face, resignation softening his usually bright brown eyes to a soft cinnamon.

"I know. It's not your fault."

She shook her head vehemently, anger sparking in her own. "It is! If I had done my job _correctly_, we wouldn't _be_ in this mess! You wouldn't be…" She snapped her mouth shut, unable to find the words, her eyes traveling down to lock on the bracelet clamped around her right wrist. She covered it with her hand, wishing it would disappear.

"That's not true, Ali." Conrart Weller's own vision was drawn to the matching bracelet that resided on his left. "This was meticulously well-thought out, by someone very, very smart and very well-trained." He winced. "We will just have to hope that whatever…clues…that we may be able to pass along…will be picked up by someone who can…" He grimaced, his lips forming a thin line. "…remedy the situation."

"It's only going to get more difficult when we reach Blood Pledge." She replied softly. Realizing belatedly that she needn't remind him of the obvious, she fell back into silence at his curt nod of acknowledgement. After all, it had already been trying enough on the both of them just making their way through the countryside.

News of the 'engagement' had leaked, apparently; some of the villages the coachman had made a stop at to rest the horses and allow his passengers to grab a quick meal were some of the same villages that the King's Knight patrolled on a regular basis, and he was quickly recognized. Under different circumstances he would have considered that to be a _good_ thing. As it was, it only led to him and his '_intended'_ being uncomfortable with the unwanted attention, and forcing smiles and feinting happiness they didn't feel. That was torturous enough. The thought of facing his friends and family – of facing _Yuuri_ – and not being able to speak the truth of what was _really_ happening left his heart aching in his chest. It was too reminiscent of what had happened before – when he had been tricked into – no…_forced_…to go after the Forbidden Boxes by a possessed Shinou. Yuuri may have forgiven him for his betrayal, but what he had done still pained the stalwart soldier.

Picking the book back up, he tried to focus on the words printed on the page, but gave up after a few moments, leaning back and closing his eyes against the stinging sensation that was threatening, and letting the rolling of the carriage rock him into an uneasy sleep.

~oOo~

Yosak sighed deeply as he stirred the fire, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the ebony-haired teen currently curled up fast asleep in his bed. Yuuri had asked…no…_pleaded_…for his return not to be announced…one look at his face and the older male had given in, not liking the paleness nor the dark circles he was seeing. A few hours of uninterrupted rest would do the young man no harm. He had barely gotten the teen settled before exhaustion had taken its toll and he had been asleep; the unexpected knock at his door, though not overly loud, hadn't even caused the poor boy to stir a muscle.

Just_ who_ had been knocking had brought him his _second_ big surprise of the night. Before he had been able to cross the room, the door had opened and The Great Sage had stuck his head inside; remaining silent, concerned, bespectacled eyes had swept over the still form of the King, then had pinned the spy with their unnerving gaze. A small smile, a nod of the head and he was gone, as quickly and as quietly as he had arrived.

Yosak could only shake his head in wonder. He had a feeling things in The Great Demon Kingdom were only going to get _harder_…and _stranger_…from here on out.


	5. The LineUp

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…

* * *

**Chapter 5 "The Line-Up"**

_Wolfram Von Bielefeld frowned, his concern growing, as well as his irritation, as he once again came up empty in the search of the Castle for his wayward 'ex-fiancé'. The __**first**__ message and the information it contained had taken Yuuri almost to the point of being ill – the blond knew that the double-black was trying very hard not to come apart at the seams; when the __**second**__ message had come with the news that Weller Kyo and __**'that woman'**__ would be arriving at Blood Pledge Castle within a fortnight, it had just been too much. Yuuri had bolted from the room, head down and face hidden. He needn't have bothered. The blond had been with him long enough now to know even without seeing it that he was in tears._

_At that moment, the anger he felt, which had been sandwiched somewhere between heavy confusion and stunned disbelief, had nearly exploded. He __**knew**__ that his brother had feelings for the King – had known for quite a while, actually; even though the half-Mazoku held a tight rein on his emotions, there had been a number of 'slip-ups' along the way (more and more occurring as time went on) that had left no doubt in Wolfram's mind as to the way the older male felt (after all, he might have a temper, and he might be a little arrogant, but he wasn't blind, and he certainly wasn't __**stupid**__). He also knew the myriad of reasons (none of them worth spit-in-the-wind as far as he was concerned) why the older male had, as of yet, never approached the teen and acknowledged those feelings. If this 'engagement' wasn't a hoax of some kind, or a 'matter-of-convenience', simply because Conrart had decided not to pursue what his heart __**really**__ wanted, and what Yuuri was plainly willing to give, then the 'Lion of Luttenburg' had 'lost his teeth' as far as the blond was concerned (and __**that**__ the younger Mazoku would __**never**__ believe) – still, he fumed, if this was Conrart's choice, as arsine as it was, he could have at least done __**something**__ to soften the blow – instead of dropping such a thing on Yuuri…on __**everyone**__…like a two-ton boulder!_

_Shaking his head to clear it of the unsettling thoughts and unpleasant memories, the blond decided to backtrack and recheck the Royal Bedchambers. At first, nothing seemed out of place, until his eyes were drawn to a small table by the window that he was sure that, just that morning, had contained a rather expensive flower vase and a generous amount of Yuuri's favorite fresh-cut flowers. The blooms had been laid carefully on the otherwise empty tabletop, but the vase was nowhere in sight. Stepping closer and looking down brought the answer, along with a pained understanding and woeful resignation. The delicate porcelain lay shattered on the intricately woven rug in the remains of, what would have been at one time, a rather large puddle of water. _

_With a sinking feeling, the third son of the former Maoh of Shin Makoku decided searching the rest of the Castle for the missing King would probably be a waste of time. Reaching out, he plucked a slightly wilted blossom from the bunch, unable to stop a bittersweet smile from coming to his lips as he brought the bright blue flower to his nose to catch its lilting fragrance. The smile morphed back into a frown. Even now, on the edge-of-heartbreak, Yuuri couldn't help himself, his unselfish nature continuing to dictate his every action. It wasn't hard to read-between-the-lines and to get the message. The name of the flowers he had so carefully preserved said it all. "Conrart Stands upon the Earth…"_

_Whatever anger he harbored melted away, to be replaced by a firm resolve. He would find out what was going on…_

…_And __**somehow**__, he would fix it._

~oOo~

The two weeks were nearly up, and Yuuri still hadn't returned. Wolfram sighed. Conrart and _'the-bride-to-be' _would be arriving tomorrow, sometime around mid-morning, barring any problems. _Everyone_ was excited – well, everyone _except_ those who made up the ring of people closest to the one who held the Throne.

~oOo~

_Yuuri's sudden departure had tipped the scales in Lady Celi's youngest child's ultimate decision to finally inform the General and the Adjutant of the cancellation of his engagement to the King. He couldn't deny that it was a great disappointment that neither Gwendal nor Gunter had been particularly surprised at the announcement, or by his disclosure of what had brought about the King's absence._

_It seemed that they, too, were keenly aware of the growing (and unacknowledged) attachment between their missing Monarch and his Knight; their reactions to the news of Conrart's upcoming nuptials mirroring his own (anger, confusion and absolute disbelief) followed closely by a great concern for the effect that it was having on the health and well-being of the gentle-hearted boy that they had all come to adore, each in his own way._

_Counting down the days until the 'homecoming' had been especially stressful. Gwendal had been even more grim than usual, and had been keeping a watchful eye on a strangely subdued Gunter. The beautiful male who was known for his theatrics when it came to the King, hadn't uttered a single wail or shed a single tear; that behavior, being so out of the norm, left everyone around him wary and on edge. Only those who were close to the lavender-eyed Mazoku knew (from experience, mind you) that the quieter he was, the angrier he was, and that anger would stay bottled-up for only so long. Gunter, when all was said and done, was still a warrior-at-heart, and a sworn protector of the King. Conrart and he had already crossed swords once on Yuuri's behalf; if it happened again, the consequences could be dire. This time the silver-haired male, in all his righteous fury, might not bend to his Ruler's wishes and let the other off so easily._

_No; the outcome, it if came down to that, whatever it might be, wasn't something that anyone wanted to think about._

_Because they all knew, whatever the result, it would break Yuuri's heart._

~oOo~

Rounding the corner, on his way to check to make sure that Greta had eaten and was in bed, Wolfram was brought up short as The Great Sage, who had been sitting on the floor and leaning against the cool stone wall outside of the Royal Bedchambers, rose up to meet him, a soft smile playing on his lips. He gave no greeting or 'hello', nor did he receive one. The blond merely waited in silence as the other brushed off the back of his pants, his arms crossed at his chest, not wanting to give the double-black the satisfaction of knowing that his appearance had rattled him. It wasn't that he didn't like the enigmatic male, he simply didn't _trust_ him entirely; especially after the episode with Shinou and Yuuri and the Forbidden Boxes. Yes, he was aware that the bespectacled youth usually had sound reasons for whatever he did, but he was so damn close-mouthed about what they were! He didn't like being in the dark and not getting answers when he _knew_ someone _had_ them and _he_ wanted them! Surely, he _had_ to trust _someone_, sometime!

Murata watched the emotions flicker across the Mazoku's face one after the other with just a hint of sadness. He was quite mindful of what the other thought of him – what many thought of him – but had long ago resigned himself to the fact the mistrust of those around him was one of many burdens that he was destined to bear. It went hand-in-hand with knowing things that should not be known and seeing things that should not be seen, and not being able to explain because sometimes just the explanation could change what needed to be. That was a risk which he simply _could not_ – _would not_ – take. _Ever_.

It was a lonely way to live.

"I just thought that you might like to know…" He started, his dark gaze catching a wary one of green, then finished with a sigh, "…Shibuya has returned."


	6. Rain Delay

A/N: I have received a request from a very nice reviewer to see if I could 'please increase the length' of my chapters. Unfortunately, at least in my case, trying to make each chapter a 'certain length' only causes a problem, since when I focus on the length, I lose focus on the story and its flow. I'd much rather update frequently with short chapters, than try to write longer ones where the story seemed choppy or incomplete. So, the chapters will be what they will be; short, long or in-between. I will allow the story to continue to dictate the chapter length. I ask for your understanding and your forgiveness.

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 6 "Rain Delay"**

The next morning came as all mornings do; but this one was different than those that had come before. For one thing, it dawned much too soon for many of the inhabitants of Blood Pledge – for various different reasons. With an overcast sky and a drizzle of rain, the weather only seemed to amplify the strange atmosphere that had suddenly settled over the Castle as last minute preparations were made for the start of a new day and the anticipated arrival of the soon-to-be newlyweds.

It was almost as if the Castle were holding its collective breath.

~oOo~

_When he had been told by The Great Sage of Yuuri's return, the blond's first impulse had been to immediately go to the spy's quarters and drag him away. The bespectacled male's softly spoken request that he let the other double-black remain where he was had, at first, infuriated the blond; it was the disquieting expression that had settled on the Sage's face as he had calmly, but firmly, explained the reasons behind the appeal that had doused Wolfram's anger and had stopped him from telling the irritating youth to 'mind his own business'. He could only describe the look as a world-weariness tinged with sadness; it wasn't something that one would expect from one whose physical appearance said he was no more than a teenager. It was when they had locked gazes and almost glowing, richly-hued obsidian had silently __**demanded**__ agreement that the illusion that this was a mere 'boy' was shattered; seemingly fathomless, they had conveyed age and hidden wisdom that had nothing to do with chronological time – it had the hairs on his neck standing-on-end and goose-bumps rising along his arms. His fighting experience might be limited, but even he could tell when he was up against something beyond swordplay and normal maryoku – the fair-haired demon had quickly found himself acquiescing with a murmur and a nod and making a 'strategic withdrawal'._

_In other words, he turned tail and ran._

_Yosak had escorted the young King back to the Royal Bedchambers at first light, where Wolfram, already up and dressed in his standard blue uniform, waited anxiously, watching protectively over a still slumbering Greta, and pondering what other unwelcome surprises the day might bring. One look at Yuuri's face as he stepped through the doorway and into the room, followed by an unusually solemn Gurrier and the fidgeting blond understood why the other double-black had 'asked' for his cooperation – even with the few hours of rest that he had stolen, the teen still looked terrible – dull-eyed and pale-faced, the misery and uncertainty rolled off of him in waves so strong that the others in the room could almost have literally cut them with a knife._

~oOo~

That had been hours ago. The weather had only gotten worse as the morning wore on; dark, heavy-laden storm clouds had brought torrential rain, accompanied by rolling thunder and lightning so incessant one could almost use it to read by. It had everyone in the Castle exchanging worried glances.

It seemed that the whole of Shin Makoku was now mirroring the distress of its King.

After having sent Greta to spend the day with Lady Anissina, knowing that she would keep her occupied and away from the drama that was about to unfold, Wolfram had remained with Yuuri in the Royal Bedchambers trying, unsuccessfully, to get him to take a nap, or at least eat a little something. The King had steadfastly refused to do either and had huddled himself on the built-in bench of the largest Chamber window to gaze through the misty glass in silence.

The blond knew what he was staring at. He had seen that particular view from that vantage point many times.

It was the sudden movement and the loud, almost-pained gasp that brought him from where he had been sitting on the bed to the other male's side – across the room in a flash, Wolfram stood behind Yuuri and looked over his shoulder – and felt his stomach drop as he took in the familiar sight of the Castle gates, which were now open wide, and the mud-splattered, horse-drawn Coach making its way into the main courtyard. The time had come.

_Conrart had arrived._

~oOo~

Gwendal Von Voltaire could never truly be called a patient Mazoku – it was not in his normal nature. The tall earth-bender was of a military mind, having been in it most of his adult life. Emotions had little use in a soldier's realm. An order was given and you followed it. You didn't question and you didn't delay; you did your duty to King and Country, faithfully and unswervingly – failure to do so was _not_ an option.

He had, however, found that mind-set hard to reconcile with the changing duties that had been thrust upon him as he had swiftly moved up in the ranks. More and more, he had found himself having to rely on diplomacy, where words and how they were said (or written) and the emotions that lay behind them mattered; sometimes, it seemed, more than action and result – where it appeared, and felt, on many occasions, almost as if he were playing a game instead of trying to protect a growing country and secure its future.

He had always hated games.

Yuuri's appearance out-of-the-blue had been another thorn-in-his-side – he had hated surprises as much as he had hated games – finding out that the new Maoh wasn't even from their world had further grated on his nerves and rubbed his pride raw.

Needless to say, he was dumbfounded when his harshness had been met with gentle humor and the double-black's forgiving spirit.

It had only been three years, which was a blink-of-an-eye by Mazoku standards; that so much and so many had been so soundly influenced by the young man and his taking of the Throne in that tiny snippet of time still amazed the grim-minded General.

What amazed him even more was how he _himself _had changed.

Now, standing in the courtyard underneath an awning that had been set up to give the coach's inhabitants some protection from the weather as they disembarked, he brought all of that experience to bear, hoping it would be enough, as he faced his brother, looking him over with a keen eye. Unable to find anything amiss, he finally spoke.

"Conrart…"

"Gwendal…" The brunet returned the greeting easily, his face giving nothing away. "I see that you received my message."

"We did." He glanced towards the carriage, unable to stop the downturn of his lips. "Is _she_ inside?"

"_She_ has a name, Gwendal. I would appreciate it if you would use it." Looking around, he raised an eyebrow. "Where is Gunter? He's usually not one to circumvent protocol."

The General's eyes narrowed. "Gunter is busy with…other duties…at the moment."

"_Really..?._" The mocking tone and the smirk on the half-Mazoku's face shocked him and made his blood boil. _Was this really his brother?_

"No…" He snapped back, "…if you want the truth, he's not here because he couldn't stand to look at you right now – how could you _do_ this, Conrart? To yourself – to _Yuuri_?"

Outwardly, there was only a widening smirk as the eyebrow rose higher. Inwardly, the brown-eyed soldier's gut twisted, his heart clenched and his mind screamed.

If there were a Hell in this world, surely he was in it.

~oOo~

"Yuuri…._please_…talk to me!" The blond's frantic cry brought the sound of running feet. Murata had been on his way to the Royal Chambers, taking his time, understandably in no hurry to be the bearer of bad news; now, having heard Wolfram's panicked voice, he fairly burst into the room, sharp eyes taking in the scene and the reason for the commotion with a sweeping glance.

The Prince was kneeling in front of the King, who was shaking uncontrollably and struggling to breathe, his face a pasty-white and his dark eyes wide with terror. Scowling, the former Daikenja crossed the room and grabbed the fair-haired Mazoku by the shoulders and pulled him back and away, taking his place kneeling in front of his long-time friend. He had seen this before, on other people.

Yuuri was in a full-blown panic attack.

"Shibuya…!" Taking his class-mate's face in both hands, he forced the other double-black to look at him and focus his attention on what he was saying, as he spoke slowly, succinctly and most of all, _calmly. _"Listen to me. You're having a Panic Attack, Shibuya. I want you to close your eyes and count…backwards from 100 to 1…with each count, I want you to breathe…in and out…in and out….do you understand?" A barely perceptible nod and Yuuri's eyes slid closed; putting all of his trust and faith in the other's words, he did as exactly as he was told. Within a few moments, his breathing had slowed and his face had regained some of its color, but the shaking continued. With assistance from a visibly upset Wolfram, Murata managed to get the ailing boy Ruler up and over to the oversized bed; leaving the task of making him comfortable to the blond, he stormed from the room, tight-lipped and white-jawed, and his eyes glinting dangerously.

This was taking too much of a toll on his young friend; Shibuya was _hurting_, and _he_ was _seething_. He was very much aware that the events now transpiring had been put into motion by Shinou as a way to force Yuuri and Conrart Weller to acknowledge their true feelings, but something _else_ was going on here, and he was determined to find out what it was before any more dangerous (and permanent) damage could be done.

There was _one_ thing he knew for certain.

There would be no meeting between the King and his Knight on_ this_ day.


	7. Interference

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 7 "Interference"**

Shinou was sitting, in a very un-King-like fashion, upon one of the four Forbidden Boxes in the inner sanctum of his Temple, deep in thought. Elbow-on-knee, chin-in-hand, his startling blue eyes held a vacant look that belied the complicated scheming going on in a mind that, at least in his own opinion, was even sharper _after_ death than it had _ever_ been in life. The way he saw it, that was only to be expected; after all, he had only managed to_ live_ a total of two-hundred and ten years; he had been dead for over _four thousand_ – one could learn a lot in that length of time if one paid attention. Of course, one could also get very, very _bored_.

So…he meddled.

He made no bones about it and no apologies for it. This was _his_ Kingdom – these were _his_ people. He had given up _so_ much – spent his last months in agony; letting go bit-by-bit, piece-by-ragged-piece, of friends, family – of _life_ – everything that he held dear. Let his body be burned and his soul sealed away – all to keep Realm and subjects safe. Endured countless _centuries_ trapped in a Hellish void with only a miniscule sliver of hope to sustain what little sanity had managed to survive…

…and people were angry because he _meddled_? He snorted, shaking his head.

Although, if-the-truth-be-told, _this_ time, he had only been looking for a way to repay the debt he felt he owed. If it had been anyone else, it would have been a simple matter. Riches, beautiful concubines (women or men) land, Titles, power…any number of things would have suited a 'normal' being as compensation; however…the blond ex-Ruler sighed, smiling ruefully.

…Yuuri Shibuya was anything _but_ normal.

He cared nothing for material things – _Ah!_ But things of the heart! – That was different! And his heart's desire shone plainly in his eyes every time he glanced his soldier's way, if one took the effort to see it.

As for Conrart Weller…where his heart rested had been confirmed the moment that he had accepted his ancestor's left arm in place of his own, in a misguided attempt to fulfill Yuuri's vision of a new world. Even though he was possessed at the time, Shinou still felt a tiny bit ashamed of using the male's affection for the boy-King against him in such a way.

Knowing all of this, it hadn't taken much thinking on his part to come up with a way to reward both Yuuri and the Knight at the same time. He would play 'matchmaker'. It would take very little effort on his part; after all, it was what they _both_ wanted, and if he made sure that the so-called 'fiancé' had no objections to stepping aside, and the blond Prince's troublesome Uncle, Von Bielefeld Waltrana Kyo wouldn't try to mess things up (again) why should (why _would_) anyone _else_ object?

He had been so _sure _of the facts…was _still_ sure that he was correct… which was why he could not understand this sudden turn of events…

The ancient specter sighed deeply._ Consequences_, the double-black had said, in the conversation that they had when the young King had disappeared to Earth for the second time; _unforeseen_ consequences.

He hated to admit it, but his Sage _might_ have been right...

_That_ was as close as he would ever come to admitting that he _might_ have been wrong.

~oOo~

"A meeting – you want a meeting…_without_ Yuuri Heika present?" Gunter stared wide-eyed, watching as Murata nodded minutely. "Who _is_ to be included in this meeting, Geika, may I ask?"

"Besides myself; you, Von Voltaire Kyo, Wolfram, Yosak…" He took a few seconds to push his spectacles further up on his nose, his eyes disappearing behind the resulting glare, then finished quietly, "…Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert." Murata watched as the silver-haired Mazoku stiffened, his beautiful lips turning downwards in his displeasure. Twisting his body slightly, his distress evident, he faced the General who was sitting at his desk. "I won't…Gwendal…I can't…"

"Gunter…" Lady Celi's oldest son sighed, his voice devoid of its usual terseness – he sounded weary, more than anything – "…I know that you are upset; that you are angry – so am I. But, you are going to have to face Conrart sooner or later. It won't be pleasant – Believe me, I speak from experience – but it must be done. _Something_ has…happened…something has…_changed_…and _we_ need to find out what that _something_ is." His indigo eyes softened slightly, "If we don't..." he hesitated, sparing a quick glance at the double-black who was frowning deeply, then brought his gaze back to the lavender-eyed male to finish in a pained voice, "…We cannot afford to _lose_ the King, Gunter."

The Adjutant's gasp was audible, shock making his pale skin drop even more color. "Lose the King?! What are you saying, Gwendal?! Yuuri Heika would _never _abandon us!"

The charcoal-haired Mazoku took a heavy breath and closed his eyes, gathering his resolve to speak the words that seemed to squeeze at his heart. Looking back up, his eyes opened and settled on the other male again, as he went on to explain. "No, not willingly…but after what happened today…if his health continues to deteriorate, there _is_ the distinct possibility that he would have to be sent back to Earth..."

"Are you saying that…he would not return…?" Gunter's voice was soft with hurt.

"No…" The Great Sage answered for him, "He is telling you, Von Christ Gunter Kyo, that if it comes to _that_, and his life is in danger, he will not be_ allowed_ to return." Raising his head, the former Daikenja's eyes were colder than black ice. "I will not let Shibuya be used as a pawn in someone's twisted game…_again…_I will not let his heart be broken if there is any possibility to prevent it. And I will _not_ let him forfeit his life, even if it _is_ to save Shin Makoku. I lost one friend that way, long ago. I will _not _lose another."

"Geika…" Gunter breathed, unable to say more. In all the time that he had known the other male, the tall Mazoku had never heard him speak with such fervor. Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Very well, then. I will set up a suitable area for later on this evening…after the dinner-meal…if that would be agreeable. And I will send Dacascos with a message to Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert requesting their presence."

Gwendal's lips pulled up until his face held just a ghost of a smile. "Thank you, Gunter. Your assistance in this matter is _most_ appreciated." The green-suited General couldn't help but admire the soft blush that swept over the Adjutant's cheeks at his words.

~oOo~

By the time that Yuuri began to work himself awake, it was late afternoon, according to the clock on the fireplace mantle. One wouldn't have been able to tell by looking outside – the sky yielded no clue – still as sullen as it had been earlier, low black clouds continued to hammer the countryside with rain, angry winds blowing the trees and buffeting the Castle windows. The teen lay there a few moments before he became aware of another presence in the room, one that was comfortingly familiar. Reluctant to move, he sighed, closing his eyes again. "I'm all right, Wolf."

"No…no, you're _not_, Yuuri." The blond's voice was almost inaudible, the pain lacing his words unmistakable. "You _scared_ me, earlier…_really_ scared me…"

"Wolfram…" The young Monarch turned over onto his side, to squarely face the other male who was sitting on the bedside chaise, his mouth holding a slight frown, "…I'm sorry…"

"Don't! Don't apologize, Yuuri!" He snapped, "I…_we_…don't need your apologies! You have to take better care of yourself! You're the _King! _We need you! We rely on you! We…you…" He faltered, his words failing him for a moment. Finally, rubbing a hand across suspiciously moist eyes, he finished, "We _all_ love you, Yuuri, each in our own way. Whatever has happened – whatever _is _happening – I promise you, we will work it out, all of us, _together_. You are not alone in this. Okay? So, _please_…"

Wolfram's earnest plea made the double-black realize, with a start, that he was being horribly selfish. Yes, he felt as if the worlds were ending and he didn't understand what was happening, but he was not the only one hurting; and he was not the only one confused. In his misery, he had been shutting out those who were closest to him, which was only adding to everyone's pain and suffering. It was a vicious cycle.

It had to stop.

There was something else that he had come to realize as he had floated between the veil of sleeping and waking.

Along with loving someone, you had to trust them. He'd trusted Conrad with everything he had up until now; his body, his life – and his heart. Even when he had remained in Dai Shimeron, joining their Army, and taking orders from a power-hungry King Belar, Yuuri had continued to believe and trust in his Knight. Conrad would never hurt him, not intentionally. Of that he had no doubt.

Now that he was more rested, and the shock and hurt had had a bit of time to dull, his mind began to pick at the inconsistences surrounding the whole affair and he found himself frowning as a strange chill worked its way up his spine. Wolfram must have felt something as well; emerald eyes caught his gaze, a silent question in a raised brow. He shook his head.

"I'm fine, Wolf; really. I promise to take it easy the rest of the day." He gave a weak grin. "We can even have dinner here, with Greta, if that will make you feel better. Okay?"

A soft smile and a hesitant nod of a head was his answer. "Is there anything special you would like, Yuuri?"

"Some of that stew that we had last week, if we have any, would be nice; and some crusty bread." He watched as the blond rose to his feet, the tension seeming to drain out and away from the other's petite frame with every step he took. By the time that he was exiting through the Chambers double-doors, the Prince's shoulders had lifted and he had recovered enough of his bravado to arrogantly state that if they didn't, that he would 'personally go out and hunt a Rarebit down'.

The door had barely closed before Yuuri had gently smiled, letting his eyes slide shut as the warmth in the room made him drowsy again.

"I love you too, Wolf. _Thank you_."

~oOo~

Gunter Von Christ looked around the conference room, taking in every detail of the chamber and its arrangement with a practiced, critical eye. After a few moments, satisfied with the results, he gave a heavy sigh of relief. Noting that there were still a few hours before the appointed time for the meeting, he realized that he was in no mood to eat away the interval by catching up on yesterday's tasks or doing 'busy work'. A book was also out of the question. He doubted he would remember anything he read. He needed something to ease his frayed nerves and bolster his courage – perhaps a long soak would do the trick?

Ten minutes later, the silver-haired Mazoku, with a towel around his waist, was walking into the steam-laden air of the bathhouse, and looking forward to some well-deserved relaxation. Padding over to the edge, he stepped down, removing the towel as he went. Finally, sliding the rest of the way into the scented water, he leaned back against the side, using the discarded cloth as a pillow, and almost moaning in his delight. A perversely familiar chuckle rising out of the mist had his body freezing and his breath catching in his throat. Turning his head slowly to the side, dreading what he knew he was going to find, wide lavender met dark brown and the Adjutant suddenly felt his world tip, leaving him unable to do anything more than utter a single name…

"_Conrart_…"


	8. Foul Ball

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 8 "Foul Ball"**

Yosak sighed as he finished removing the tack from his favorite gelding. Hanging the bridle back on its hook and returning the saddle to the saddle-rack, he refolded the saddle blanket, throwing it haphazardly over the stall wall, where it hung rather precariously, earning him a blink of an eye and derisive snort from the three year-old Gray at his side. Giving the animal an apologetic grin and an affectionate, light smack on the rump (which got him another snort and a whinny) he watched as the horse moved into the freshly cleaned stall; waiting until it had turned and was facing the alley before shutting the stall door, he reached up to rub behind a twitching ear. "Sorry, boy…I know you were looking forward to having a bit of fun, but it looks like the plan's been changed. Maybe we can try again, later."

~oOo~

_He had been given a new mission just that morning. It was a 'fact-finding' operation – he was to make contact with his informants in the surrounding villages and gather more Intel on Lady Taggert – concentrating on her __**specifically**__, and trying to confirm __**exactly**__ when__**, **__and under what circumstances, it was that she had met Conrart – and any other details regarding their hush-hush courtship. The orange-haired Mazoku had been a spy long enough to know that it was the 'curse' of every clandestine affair that, no matter how careful those involved might be, there would always be a witness – a waitress, an Innkeeper, a stable-boy – someone, somewhere would have spotted the two of them together – it was his job to make that 'someone' want to __**tell **__what they had seen._

_The assignment left him feeling torn in many-different-ways. It was true, spying on such a close friend was going to put him in an uncomfortable position, but he'd been in uncomfortable positions before. Considering his 'history' with the brown-haired soldier though, he'd half-expected the task to be given to someone else (he would have had a few choice words to say if that had been the case, not that it would have done any good) and took a grim satisfaction that he was trusted enough by Von Voltaire Kyo to be able to tread the invisible and precarious boundary between friendship and duty._

_Even though the aims of the official undertaking happily coincided with his personal desires to find out what was going on, knowing that Conrart was already there, in Blood Pledge Castle made him reluctant to leave. His ex-Captain was currently staying with Lady Taggert in the section that had been newly added to the back of the ancient Stronghold (which Yuuri Heika had flippantly dubbed 'The Guest Suite'). The Guest Wing of the Castle had been shored-up enough to keep it from collapsing but it was in no way a livable structure, and was only being kept for the return of the Kumahachi, or 'Bearbees' as the young King was fond of calling them. The spy had been busy finishing up the written report on his prior assignment when the tall brunet had reached the confines of Blood Pledge, so they had not yet met up with each other face-to-face. He had, however, heard the many whispers that were floating through the air that Conrart's meeting with his older brother had __**not**__ gone very well. If those comments had come from the 'usual sources' (the always gossiping maids) he would have only paid them half-a-mind; but, apparently this bit of 'intelligence' had come from a Guard who had watched the entire exchange. It did not bode well for what lay ahead._

_After procuring the supplies that he thought he would need, he had just been getting ready to head out when he had been intercepted at the gate by a very nervous Dacascos, who had proceeded to inform him that his orders had been changed – and that the General had requested to see him in his office – __**immediately**__. He had wondered worriedly, as he had made his way through the Castle's dim-lit corridors, if the High-Ranking Mazoku had, perhaps, changed his mind about assigning him the job – he would not be a very 'happy little camper' (to use one of Yuuri Heika's odd phrases) if that were true. Knowing that he would probably be ending up in the dungeon before he could bat an eye and say 'Shinou's will be done' if that, indeed, turned out to be the case, he had steeled himself for the consequences._

~oOo~

Now, heading back to his quarters, the handsome half-Mazoku couldn't help giving a heavy sigh of relief. The mission had only been put on hold; it had not been reassigned. His presence had been _'requested'_ at a conference that had been set up for that evening – when he was told who else would be attending, he understood why. His mouth twisted into a lazy grin. He would have to remember to _thank_ a _certain_ double-black for making such a petition. Blue eyes sparkled at the thought. It was going to be fun figuring out just what _shape_ that '_Thank You_' was going to take.

The grin grew wider.

Dashing inside his assigned room, he quickly gathered his bathing essentials and a clean set of clothes – a trip to the baths was in order; after all, he couldn't show up to the 'party' smelling like old leather, horses and three-day-old sweat, now could he?

~oOo~

Numb with disbelief at finding himself confronted with the very person that he had hoped to avoid until 'official necessity' forced a meeting, Gunter Von Christ found himself unable to do anything but stare at the brown-haired soldier lazing across from him in the softly scented water, his voice having failed him after his brief utterance of Conrart's name. As he watched, an oddly self-satisfied smirk worked its way onto the half-Mazoku's face – it was as if the other male _knew_ how he was affecting him – was taking an almost sinister_ delight_ in it, in fact. The anger that had been simmering in the lavender-eyed Adjutant ever since he had learned of the Knight's _second_ betrayal of his King (and that's what the beautiful air-bender perceived these latest actions to be and no one could convince him otherwise) quickly broke the surface, dissipating the shock and freeing him from his stupor.

"Conrart..! Are you aware of what you have done…of what you are doing?!" He fairly _hissed _the words, "Do you not know how Yuuri Heika _feels_ about you?! How _could_ you?!"

The rumble of laughter that answered his inquires stunned him.

"Feels about me?" The rich voice, still filled with dark amusement, mockingly returned the question, "That…_boy_? Why should I care how a _child_ feels?" Gunter watched as he cocked his head to the side, shadowy eyes studying him. "And what _business_ is it of _yours_ what I do in my _personal_ life, Von Christ Kyo?"

_It was __**not **__possible. This could __**not**__ be Conrart Weller. Surely, he would not __**say **__such things! _Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to clear it, he was unaware of the other's sudden movement until it was too late. Gasping as he felt his wrist being grabbed and held in a vise-like grip, his eyes snapped open to find the soldier's face just a few inches from his own, an arrogant sneer on his lips and an almost cruel glint in the dark brown eyes. His own eyes widening, he felt his breath catch as the other pulled even closer and leaned over, puffs of warm air hitting his flesh as menacing words were spoken against the shell of his ear. "I have no interest in bedding _children_, my dear Gunter. Now, if it were_ you _offering, _that_ might be a _different_ matter…" here he paused, giving the offensive remark time to sink in, and choosing his next words carefully, meaning them to hurt, "Of course, if Gwendal found out, it might throw a cog-in-the-works, don't you think? I don't think he would appreciate you screwing his brother at the same time you are screwing him – it would make for a nasty scandal amongst the Aristocracy."

Whatever anger the silver-haired Mazoku had held disintegrated completely under the cruel onslaught, and was replaced by a stew of other emotions; distress and disbelief at the male's words and actions, yes, but also _confusion_. Conrart was one of the few that knew of the Adjutant's feelings for the stern General – he had, inadvertently, let the secret slip one day at The Great One's Temple while they were awaiting Heika's return, and had been the recipient of the King's Godfather's 'behind-closed-doors' gentle teasing for days afterward. The soldier was also quite aware that, as of yet, the beautiful male had not had the courage to approach Lady Celi's oldest son and 'confess' – so to make such a statement, though hurtful, thinking it could be used as a threat, made no sense…

"Is there a problem here, Von Christ Kyo?" The familiar voice floating out-of-the-mist caught both of them off-guard – neither of them had noticed Yosak enter – and whatever strange power the brown-haired male seemed to be wielding over his one-time teacher immediately disappeared, leaving the King's Aide feeling sick-to-his-stomach and shaking inside. Releasing his grip on the older Mazoku, Conrart started to move away, the bracelet on his left wrist coming back into brief contact with Gunter's arm as he did so. Immediately, the lavender-eyed male stiffened; twisting sharply, he watched in silence as the tanned form slipped from the bath, grabbed a towel and walked purposefully past the other half-Mazoku as though he wasn't even there. Yosak's gaze trailed him out; then he turned around to face the genteel scholar. "Are you all right?" When he didn't receive an answer – in fact, he barely received _any_ reaction at all – the orange-haired spy slipped into the water, towel still wrapped around his waist, and took the other male by the shoulders, the concern evident on his handsome features. "Von Christ Kyo? Gunter?"

Seeming to snap back into the 'here-and-now', lilac-colored eyes, wide and full of alarm, finally sought out and focused on his face; that was quickly followed by a rush of words spoken in a trembling, almost breathless voice, and with an urgency that left no doubt in the agent's mind that whatever the older male's unknown epiphany was, it had caused a piece of the puzzle to somehow, suddenly, slide into place – he could only hope that it would be the key to a quick solution to the mess they all found themselves in.

"Yosak...Geika! We must find…we _must_ speak to Geika! _Now_!"


	9. The Home Team

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 9 "The Home Team"**

Pained blue-grey eyes studied the broken form of the lanky male who was sitting on the small settee not far away, the hairbrush that lay in her lap long forgotten. Elbows-on-knees, face-in-hands, he was the very picture of misery – the pronounced rounding of his shoulders a telltale physical manifestation of the heavy emotional weight that he was carrying – a weight that at any moment threatened to come barreling down and crush him.

~oOo~

_She had to admit – she had been horribly startled when the normally calm soldier had nearly exploded into the room. Freshly dressed, and with his hair (still wet from the baths) neatly combed, outwardly he was the very picture of decorum; however, his eyes told a different story – they were nearly black with despair. She'd shuddered and continued to watch wordlessly as the brunet had collapsed against the now closed door, his head back and eyes squeezed tightly shut, something between a bitter laugh and a sob breaking from his lips._

_She would have screamed…if she could._

~oOo~

Alexandria Estelle Taggert set the teacup and saucer down as gently as she could on the small table in front of where Conrart was hunched over; the sound of the clinking china, minute as it was, still caught the male's attention and he slowly raised his head. He watched, silently, as she carefully poured the tea from the pot sitting on the tray, adding three sugars and a bit of lemon, before stirring it and placing the spoon daintily on the side. Sitting down, she refilled her own cup, took a sip and waited. Her companion swallowed heavily, reaching for his own cup with a shaking hand. She let him take a few sups of the steaming brew before she spoke.

"What happened?" The auburn-haired half-Mazoku kept her voice soft, her heart clenching at the look of devastation that settled on his face, remorse burning like a dark fire in his eyes.

"I…" Conrart's voice was thick, "I _attacked_ Von Christ Kyo…in the baths…" His face nearly crumpled, "I…_hurt_ my friend…I _hurt_ Gunter…" Closing his eyes once again, he took a deep breath to steady himself, "Not physically, but I _could _have…_would have_…" He offered up a silent '_Thank you, Yosak' _then grimaced, as though in pain, fighting to force the words that followed past his lips, "Still, I may have been able…to arouse his curiosity…at the same time…"

Ali felt her heart jump at the small flicker of hope the halting statement fanned. "Let's trust in that possibility…and your friend…for now, that's the best we can do."

~oOo~

_The small caravan of three, consisting of the maid, Sangria (rolling a serving cart heavy-laden with rich, steaming bowls of stew, thick slices of crusty bread, a assortment of freshly baked cookies and small cakes – made by Effe, of course – along with a large pot of lemongrass tea) followed closely by a smiling Wolfram, holding the hand of a chattering Greta, had been making its way to the Royal Chambers when its progress had been interrupted by a noticeably nervous Dacascos. The blond's smile had immediately slid into a frown and he had dropped his (former) daughter's hand and pulled the soldier over to the side, listening intently and replying in a low voice, not wanting her (or the maid) to overhear what was being said. The russet-haired girl was still able to snatch bits-and-pieces of the conversation; enough to know that whatever plans that they'd had for the evening were being changed. It seemed that she and Yuuri would be dining alone; the small human child could tell, just from the tone of his voice, that her 'Uncle' Wolfram wasn't very happy with the whole idea._

_She'd found herself wondering (silently, of course) what this 'meeting-thingee' was all about..._

~oOo~

Ken Murata sat, with his arms crossed, legs extended and overlapping at the ankles, in front of the banking fire, deep in thought. Von Christ Kyo and Yosak had left his rooms at The Great One's Temple just a few moments before – the Adjutant still visibly shaken by what had occurred earlier in the baths – the orange-haired spy staying close to the older Mazoku and following him with a concerned eye.

The former Great Sage frowned. The lavender-eyed male's description of what had taken place, along with the physical side effects that he had suffered (some of which _could _be attributed to the shock of the situation, but not _all_) left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

He was especially concerned when the silver-haired Mazoku had described the 'chill' that had run through him when he had, inadvertently, been touched by the bracelet that Weller Kyo had been wearing.

The frown deepened. Since when did the King's Knight wear jewelry? The only article that might even come close to being described that way was the pendant that had been given to him by Suzanna Julia Von Wincott, and that was now in Shibuya's possession.

The double-black shook his head. He needed more information. He needed to get a look at that wristlet. He needed…he needed…

He needed some way to put the fear of all-that-was-holy into a certain blond specter to get him to quit his meddling!

He smirked and wondered, an evil light sparking in his eyes…

How _does_ one go about _scaring_ a _ghost_?

With a wry grin and another shake of his head, accompanied by a heavy sigh, the bespectacled youth rose and stretched, trying to get the blood flowing back into his stiffening muscles. He would think about 'retribution' later. Right now, he needed to freshen up a bit, grab a quick bite and then make his way to Blood Pledge.

After all, he had a _very_ important meeting to attend.

~oOo~

Gwendal Von Voltaire tapped the pile of papers that he had just finished signing lightly against the desktop until they formed a nice, neat stack; said stack was then carefully deposited into the red leather pouch setting on his desk, which was then secured with the gold leather cord that was attached.

Three years into the 27th Maoh's reign, and the General still found himself handling a large portion of the young Monarch's administrative workload – it was a never-ending source of irritation to the charcoal-haired Mazoku. However, if he were being honest, he would have admitted that any annoyance caused by the boy's shirking of his 'Kingly duties' had become tempered over time by the older male's steadily growing affection for the affable double-black; now when he 'groused', he did it half-heartedly, at best.

There was no need for _him_ to know that, of course.

Staring down at the now cleared desk, the General's normal frown deepened even further. Never one to deal well with emotions, this business with Conrart had left him feeling completely overwhelmed by them - there was anger and confusion, along with a myriad of lesser emotions – but the greatest one among them (yes, he could admit it, at least to himself) was _fear_. He had already faced the loss of his brother _twice_ (once when his arm was found at the burned out church and they thought him dead, and then again when he had supposedly switched sides to the enemy) and now it felt as if he were losing him all over again.

Compounding his anxiety was the fact that, knowing what lay in the boy's heart, this time Conrart had the ability to take the King down with him.

What the elder statesman dreaded the most though was the unshakable conviction that ran pure and clear throughout every fiber of his being; it was a belief that told him in no uncertain terms, that if it came to that, and the Maoh was lost, that he, and many others, would _never_ be able to find it in whatever-little-they-had-left-of-their-hearts to forgive him for it.

Reaching into his freshly-cleaned green Military-issued waistcoat, the indigo-eyed Mazoku pulled out his father's old pocket watch, carefully noting the time.

It seemed that the appointed hour had arrived.

Reluctantly, Lady Celi's oldest son rose from his chair; and with heavy footsteps (and an even heavier heart) began the long trek through the cold and drafty halls – facing the unenviable – an encounter that might not only decide his family's fate, and that of a boy that he had come to love, but the fate of an entire nation.


	10. Bunts, Balks and Players' Grievances

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 10 "Bunts, Balks and Players' Grievances"**

_So, all the 'minor league players' have assembled; now we only have to wait for the 'major league players'…minus one, to arrive. _The odd thought bounced unchecked through Ken Murata's mind, as his eyes continued to observe the other occupants in the room. 'People-watching' was one of his favorite pastimes, and under different circumstances, the miniature 'dramas' that were playing out in front of the bespectacled youth would have been a cause for dark amusement. However, as he had already made perfectly clear to a certain blond-haired 'annoyance', the former Daikenja found nothing _humorous_ about _this_ situation; sardonic or otherwise. He frowned as his gaze shifted back-and-forth between the two groups that had formed. Von Christ Gunter Kyo was sitting in an antique wingback, with Yosak standing slightly behind him and to his right; blue eyes blazing and tight-lipped, he was more serious than Murata could _ever_ remember seeing the half-Mazoku. The spy was definitely _not_ happy, that much was clearly apparent – as to _why_, the double-black had overheard (he was not _eavesdropping,_ he really _wasn't_) part of an earlier discussion between the two that had become rather heated – Yosak insisting that the Adjutant should tell the General what had happened _before_ the meeting started, and the silver-haired Mazoku replying that he _would_ speak to him, but not until _after_ – Von Christ had made his point by stating that he had known Von Voltaire for far longer than anyone else at Blood Pledge (barring Lady Anissina, of course, whom he had grown up with) – and that he knew that the indigo-eyed male was already angry at Conrart and he wanted to add no more fuel to the fire that was, at the moment, holding at a slow-burn. He'd had occasion to see what damage could be done when that tightly-controlled temper exploded – it had happened only once since they had become acquainted; and it was something, he'd said, that he never wanted to see again. If it occurred, he had assured the orange-haired male, it would make the eruption of the volcano on Vandavia Island that had 'transformed' Morgif look mild in comparison.

On the other side of the room, said General was trying to deal with an also-decidedly unhappy younger brother whose fiery temper was almost legendary, known to be easily ignited and had a habit of exploding on a fairly regular basis – which made his current behavior rather remarkable. Von Bielefeld Wolfram Kyo _was_ angry, and had been in an intense 'discussion' with his eldest brother almost as soon as the male had walked through the door, but he had kept his voice down and (as of yet) nothing in the surrounding area had been burnt or even slightly singed. It didn't take a genius IQ to figure out that a lot of the blond's anger stemmed from the fact that he had been 'forced' to attend the meeting, and was unable to stay by Shibuya's side. The watching youth understood the sentiment, he really did; but it was something that couldn't be helped. He'd had a sneaking suspicion for some time now of _what_ they might be up against (though as to _who_ would do such a thing, or the reason behind it, he had no clue) – but when he'd made the request that the youngest of Lady Celi's sons attend, he still hadn't been able to explain why he _wanted_ him there, or the reason why he _hadn't_ _wanted_ the Demon King to be present. The Great Sage knew the reasoning behind his actions would become glaringly apparent if his 'theory' turned out to be true; what had happened to Von Christ Kyo earlier in the day had only served to further solidify his belief as to what they were facing – now all he needed was the _proof_.

Glancing over at the side table, his dark eyes found the small container of 'holy' water that he'd hidden behind a lush, potted plant. Scanning to make sure that the maryoku seal was still in place, he couldn't help the smirk that settled on his lips at the very idea. _'Holy' water my ass…as if __**anything**__ about Shinou was ever 'holy'…_

The crooked direction that his thoughts were taking was interrupted by a loud, nervous knock; it drew everyone else's attention, as well, and four other sets of eyes pinned harsh gazes upon the heavy wooden door along with his own. It was opened by a slightly flustered-looking Dacascos who, hand-on-knob, followed it until it was flush against the wall before turning and heralding the arrival of the long-awaited 'Guests-of-Honor'…

"Announcing Weller Conrart Kyo and Lady Alexandria Estelle Taggert…"

~oOo~

Greta couldn't help giggling.

She had been sitting quietly, watching and waiting for Yuuri to awaken, hoping that the smell of food would do it so that she wouldn't have to. Today must be her lucky day, she'd decided; nose twitching, Yuuri had begun to move, and then to yawn and stretch, and that's when the snickering began – he reminded her (with his dark hair and matching dark clothes) of a skinny black cat just waking up from a long nap. Big brown eyes filled with mirth, the nearly eleven year-old continued to stare at her adoptive father until a soft smile worked its way onto his face and one heavy-lidded eye slid open to stare sleepily back at her.

"What's so funny?"

"You are." She answered, giggling again. "Are you hungry, Yuuri?" She laughed when his stomach growled before he could say anything, and twisted around to bring the food cart closer to the bedside.

Reddening, he laughed, as well. "I guess I am." Sitting up, the young Monarch rubbed at his eyes, and then looked around, his face scrunching up in mild confusion. "Where's Wolfram, Greta? I thought he was eating with us?"

Facing away from him as she placed thick slices of buttered bread on two of the three plates that held covered bowls of stew, she shrugged. "He was going to, but he got called away."

"Called away?" Scooting over to the side of the bed, the double-black reached for one of the plates, removing the cover and taking the spork that his daughter offered. As the heady aroma of the stew wafted past his nose, he found his mouth watering and his stomach rumbling, yet again – he really shouldn't have been surprised, with as little as he had eaten in the last few days.

Setting her plate on the bed, Greta munched on her slice of bread and nodded. "Some kind of meeting, I think…" Looking up at him, she almost choked as she tried to swallow around another giggle. Yuuri was sitting, head cocked, his hair sticking up at all odd angles and his dark eyes wide, a dripping spork held halfway to his open mouth as he contemplated what he was being told.

She couldn't help it. She _really_ couldn't.

Sometimes her _Papa_ Yuuri was just _too_ adorable for words.

~oOo~

The initial introductions had been handled by The Great Sage, with carefully practiced skill – normally it was a duty belonging to the Adjutant; however, Gunter had conceded the task, still shaken by what had happened in the baths and stating that it was his wish to be an observer only – knowing what _might_ happen very shortly, the double-black considered it the least that he could do for the lavender-eyed male. As for the 'Couple' that was the focal point of the gathering; putting it bluntly, the brunet's composure, as well as that of his 'fiancée', was more-than-mildly irritating – someone would think, with the way that they were behaving, that this was some sort of leisurely 'walk-through-the-park', not a semi-formal 'meet-and-greet' with a large handful of the land's most powerful leaders, one third of which also happened to be related to the male half of the soon-to-be-wed pair. The first words that came out of the Soldier's mouth didn't help the matter any. Neither did the self-satisfied smirk that accompanied them.

"Is Yuuri Heika not joining us?" The smirk only widened at the glowers that were sent his way.

"I'm afraid not…Shibuya is…a little bit…under-the-weather, you could say." Murata answered evenly, all the while pretending _not _to hear Wolfram's muttered, "More like the _cause_ of it, you mean…" as the blond's attention was drawn to the rain that continued to pelt heavily against the windowpane.

"I see…well, then…should we get started?" If Yosak hadn't known the other male so well, he would have missed it; the look of dark excitement that flashed through the chocolate brown eyes and the cruel twist of the lips had the hairs rising on the back of his neck. Even at his worst – before, during and after the war, when hurt, anger and heartache were all he knew and was all that he could look forward to – Conrart had never been like this; the spy had never seen such a look on his friend's face. It was almost as if the emotions he was expressing weren't his own…

And then, in a heartbeat, they were gone; the smirk was back on the brunet's lips as though it had never left, the flashing eyes once again showing only shadows. The orange-haired half-Mazoku watched his friend in stunned disbelief, and with just a twinge of anger, as he leaned back in his seat, and let the mocking grin on his face slowly widen in open challenge. "All right then…who wants to ask the _first_ question?"

~oOo~

They had eaten their fill; laughing and teasing and enjoying each other's company like any father and daughter should – at least, that's the way it seemed on the _outside_. _Inside_, Yuuri Shibuya was one-big-ball of confusion – thoughts swirling and tumbling about in his brain like debris in the midst of a tornado. He could readily admit that he was clueless about many things, and he understood that he still had a lot to learn about being a King; but, as his lavender-eyed aide had once told him, _that_ was the purpose of having advisors – to _teach_ him what he needed to know, and then _advise_ him how to use that knowledge for the good of the Kingdom. The explanation given made perfect sense, even to _him_; what didn't make sense was, if what Gunter had said was the truth (and he'd never known the silver-haired Mazoku to lie) why those very same advisors were having a meeting that _he_ hadn't been invited to.

Unless…they were trying to protect him from something; or to be more precise, they were trying to keep him from having to deal with a _certain_ 'someone'.

And he had a good guess as to _who_ that _someone_ was.

Looking over to his right, he couldn't help the smile that caught his lips. After they had eaten and played a bit (Greta was fond of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', giggling each time she won) the russet-haired mop-top had curled up on the large, overstuffed pillows near the head of the bed and fallen fast asleep. The teen felt his heart swell with fatherly affection as he watched the little girl, the thought working its way to the front of his mind of how something that had started off so badly (she _had_ tried to stab him; that's pretty bad, if you asked him) had ended up so well – the one that followed it was that he had been extraordinarily lucky; and that with all that he had dealt with since coming to Shin Makoku, he should really be counting his blessings.

Yuuri sighed. He just hoped that his luck hadn't run out, because the thoughts that came stomping after those were leading him to a choice that was probably going to anger quite a lot of people, especially after all the trouble that they had gone through.

And truthfully, and this was putting it _mildly_, he wasn't overly _fond_ of the decision himself.

But of all the things that he might be called (and rightly so), now and in the not-so-distant future, he hoped that '_Coward_' would never be counted among them.

After all, he _was_ the King. And no matter how much it hurt him _personally _(and it _did_, oh-believe-you-me, it did) he had a Kingdom to take care of.

It was time he 'manned-up'; so-to-speak.

Gently covering his daughter with the comforter to make up for the loss of heat from the now dying fire, he tip-toed out of the room as best he could, putting a finger to his lips that had both guards outside the Chamber Doors grinning (they were used to this by now) and then quickly wiping said grins from their faces as professionalism reared its ugly head.

"I'm going for a walk." Is what he told them.

"Yes, Heika…" Is what they replied.

It wasn't _really_ a lie; just a half-truth.

After all, no one could _really_ complain if he just _happened_ to find out where a certain meeting was being held while out on his walk and dropped in to say 'Hello', now could they?

~oOo~

_This is getting us nowhere._ The General couldn't help but glower as the dark thought settled heavily in his mind. Conrart had answered all of their questions calmly and concisely, confirming the information that they had been given earlier; but, with each additional word out of his brother's mouth, Gwendal had grown more-and-more convinced that this whole 'marriage' scenario was a _farce_ – a fabrication – every instinct the charcoal-haired Mazoku had was screaming at him that the brunet was lying through his teeth; but he could find no rhyme or reason for it, or for what the half-Mazoku was doing, and that frustration, along with the worries that went along with the situation had him close to his breaking point. He could feel his maryoku tingling at the tips of his fingers, and the fine tremors beginning to run through the antique wooden desk below them.

Sometimes, being an earth-bender could be a disadvantage.

Wolfram hadn't been doing much better, he'd noticed. The cup of tea that the blond Mazoku held in his lap had been poured right after the introductions had been made and hadn't gone cold once; tiny sparks hitting the porcelain every so often as the youngest of Lady Celi's sons listened to the 'fairytale' they were being told with barely contained fury.

Switching his attention and settling it on Gunter (and not for the first time, mind you) Gwendal let his worry rise to the surface. The beautiful male had been sitting in silence, his face expressionless except for the slight downturn of his lips; the lilac eyes that the General loved so much staring at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing that had ever been created. It was his hands that gave him away – they were clutching the ends of the arms of the chair in which he sat so hard that they were white-knuckled – that, and the loose strands of his long silver hair, the tips of which were gently moving as if being blown by a whisper of the wind.

Murata had been carefully observing the three full-blooded Mazoku males in the room even as he'd continued to play 'Twenty Questions' with the brown-eyed soldier; he was not surprised at the way that they were reacting – he had been _waiting_ for it.

Reaching over to the side table, the double-black made a pretext of going for the cup of tea that he had purposely set there; changing direction at the last second, his hand headed for the container of 'holy' water instead, and the seal that had acted as protection for the maryoku that had been infused into it by Shinou.

But before he could tear away the seal, there was a knock on the door, and the very thing that he had tried to prevent – the very worst thing that _could_ happen…

…_Happened_.

The door opened…

…And all Hell broke loose.


	11. A Brawl on the Mound and Its Aftermath

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 11 "A Brawl on the Mound and Its Aftermath"**

"Shibuya…_NO_!" Even as his friend stepped into the room and he called out the warning, Murata knew it was already too late; he felt his stomach drop as he watched surprise register briefly on Yuuri's pale face, the teen coming to a quick halt just inside the door; then he caught a grimace of pain and saw the flash of sudden panic in the other double-black's wide eyes as the faint blue glow, the visual evidence of the maryoku that he wielded and the signal that usually heralded the coming of the Maoh, began to outline the young Ruler's motionless body …

…But the Maoh never arrived.

Instead, the blue glow continued to rapidly expand, becoming a shifting and twirling 'bubble' of energy around the youth; split-seconds later, a wraithlike tendril began to form in its midst, then broke away and shot out towards the center of the chamber…

The Great Sage watched helplessly as the phenomenon repeated itself three more times in rapid succession – the General was entrapped first, then the Adjutant, and finally the King's ex-fiancé. Each 'bubble' and tether's color seemed to mirror the type of maryoku used by its owner; Gwendal's was shaded a rich, earthy green, Wolfram's a fiery red and Gunter's a soft, hazy violet. Just like Yuuri, they too, were held totally immobile within, only their eyes left with the ability to show their distress. Wrapped tightly within cocoons made up of their own raw energy, the four found their strength quickly being drained away – the loss of which soon succeeded in downing the King, and then sent his General, who had also been standing at the time, straight to his knees. The other two shortly followed.

Meeting along the way, rainbow colors drew together. Twisting and turning, they formed themselves into a single cable, which then continued on its way towards the middle of the room, heading straight for the wild-eyed soldier and the woman who was so-shortly to be his wife. Both of them were now standing, each of them with a look of horror, shock and pain frozen on their face; his left hand clutching her right hand, they held their arms aloft – the bracelets that each wore beginning to glow a blackish-bloody-red.

Papers swirled, the ground rumbled and trembled and steaming liquids overflowed, as the maryoku of the four elements – earth, water, wind and fire – now combined as one, were drawn to the garish wristlets like otherworldly moths-to-a-flame; rolling unimpeded through the small space, the coil left only destruction in its wake as it snaked its way toward its final destination. Wide-eyed and ashen-faced, Murata was desperately trying to think of a way to derail the oncoming disaster, when his eyes snagged on a figure who was (he would ask him later how) surprisingly, still standing.

"YOSAK…!" The Great Sage bellowed the name, hoping he could be heard over the near-deafening din, his pulse jumping as he saw the spy shake himself, dispelling the shock that had left him drop-jawed and glued to the floor. Their eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds, Shibuya's friend saw the orange-haired male tersely nod, letting him know without words that he understood the situation and what needed to be done. The half-Mazoku was moving in the direction of Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert as soon as their gaze broke; the double-black went in the opposite direction, trying to make his way to the disabled King – both of them fighting against a building maelstrom of stinging wetness, broken glass, falling rock and mortar and flying debris.

Looking back over his shoulder as he reached Shibuya's side, he saw the blows as they were dealt – quick, hard chops to the back of each neck, all done with no wasted effort and with a skill that could only come from long years of practice – and then watched as both Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert fell at the feet of their blue-eyed assailant. It seemed that being used as a 'conduit' for whatever force was held in the strange metal cuffs had granted them no safeguard whatsoever; they had been rendered just as immobile and were just as defenseless as those that power had been directed against.

With their collapse, the bracelets quickly began to lose their glow, and as it died, the tempest in the room began to cease; the cable broke apart, and four wispy spirals of maryoku began to creep back toward the prone forms of their respective owners, seeking nothing more than to be reabsorbed back into the glimmering shells that had spawned them. Minutes later, even those 'shells' had faded into memory.

Sitting under a dripping ceiling, in the midst of all the ruin and rubble, The Great Sage took a moment and allowed himself a wince, which was accompanied by a sigh of relief. It appeared that all four 'victims', from what he could tell, apart from being unconscious, were otherwise unharmed – unlike himself ,Yosak, and the unfortunate couple that had been at the epicenter of the destruction, they had no cuts, bruises or contusions from the airborne debris and the buffeting that resulted from it. The heavy layer of maryoku that each had been enveloped in had ended up being both a curse and a blessing. They had been trapped inside, but that very 'prison' had protected them; even as it weakened, its energies being siphoned away, it had managed to stand as a barrier against the flying wreckage in the room. Nevertheless, that aside, they still wouldn't be able to _confirm_ that there were no _other_ types of lasting ill-effects stemming from the near-catastrophe of the day until everyone woke up – and, judging from the amount of maryoku that had been involved, _that_ might take a while.

Taking one last look around to assess the damage that the debacle had caused, his eyes caught the questioning gaze and the raised eyebrow of one very tired and bruised orange-haired half-Mazoku sitting on the floor a few yards away; relief running through him that the _very_ worst had been avoided, the bespeckled teen couldn't hold back the dark humor and let a wicked grin spread across his face. "Hmm…" he started, his head tilting down, the usual 'reflective glare' effect being somewhat diminished because of the cracks both lenses now sported, "…that went well…don't you think?"

~oOo~

_As it turned out, it was two days before anyone returned to the 'land-of-the-living'; the first to awake being Wolfram, who was followed on day three by Gwendal and Gunter, only hours apart from each other. Yuuri had finally awoken on day five – unknowingly earning Murata's eternal gratitude. He'd had his hands full trying to convince the three that had preceded the King to wait for explanations until Shibuya could also be in attendance; asking for them to be patient for 'just one more day' would have probably been pushing his luck past the breaking point._

_Not that they hadn't used the time in-between wisely, mind you._

_Yosak's delayed 'mission' regarding Lady Taggert was suddenly a 'Go' again – his previous orders being reinstated mere moments after the General had awakened. The half-Mazoku had grabbed supplies and was on his way less than an hour later, his determination to accomplish said task only increased by the events of the past few days._

_Murata had spent the majority of __**his**__ time (when he wasn't ducking behind statues or slipping around corners to avoid first, a fuming Wolfram, then an upset Gunter and lastly, a scowling Gwendal) holed up with Gisela and Lady Anissina, in the redhead's laboratory, part of which had been turned into a make-shift infirmary for the last two attendees of the meeting who, in addition to the King, still remained unconscious._

_And until they could remove the bracelets that they wore, he was determined that Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert would remain that way._

~oOo~

Currently, The Great Sage was sitting in what served as both the General's and Shibuya's 'office', sipping on a lukewarm cup of tea as his friend fidgeted; both of them awaiting the arrival of the King's long-suffering aides and one very irritated blond, with mounting trepidation – although for very different reasons.

~oOo~

_Yuuri had been abnormally quiet since awakening. Oh, he answered when spoken to, and still smiled his shy smile, but he didn't start any conversations and seemed preoccupied most of the time, his attention wandering easily. On top of that, his appetite was off – he had only taken a few meals, and then, only because he was pressed to do so. The former Daikenja was really not worried about it – he was quite confident that these 'symptoms' were not an aftereffect of the 'attack' (and make no mistake – that's exactly what it was) though he'd had a hard time, at first, convincing Gisela, who, because of them, had given the King several thorough goings-over. He had finally quipped to the healer that, as far as he knew, no one had, as of yet, found a cure for 'lovesickness'; and then, finding himself cornered, had only a __**tiny**__ bit reluctantly, went into detail to explain what he'd meant by the comment. With a careless wave and a hearty chuckle, he'd left the green-haired Mazoku (who had not been informed by her adoptive father, Von Christ Kyo, of the cancelled engagement, or the reason behind it) standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed in the middle of her infirmary._

~oOo~

Now, Murata's sharp eyes studied the King as he sat behind his desk. Sighing as he set his empty teacup down on the side-table by his chair, he decided to alleviate at least _one _of the other Earth-child's worries before the others arrived.

Lips twitching into a slight smirk, he addressed his friend, "Relax, Shibuya. They already know about the engagement being called off – Wolfram informed them during the last time you were on Earth. I'm also quite sure that he told them _why_ it was being canceled." His mind couldn't help adding the disclaimer, "…_as if they hadn't figured out what was going on already."_

He watched with some amusement as Yuuri's eyes grew to the size of saucers, and his mouth gaped, but before he could say a word, the door swung open and Gwendal strode in, with Gunter at his elbow, and Wolfram following closely on their heels.

The General took his place behind his own desk as the others settled in. Wasting no time with politeness or formalities, and mincing no words, he pinned a glowing-indigo gaze on the eerily calm double-black sitting in the leather chair across from him, and in a flat voice, uttered only two-syllables.

"Explain."

"What happened is _exactly _what I _suspected _would happen…" The Great Sage held up a hand to stop the blond, who, red-faced with anger, had leant forward and opened his mouth to speak. "…Though not on such a grand scale…" He finished, and watched as Wolfram's mouth snapped shut and he sat back, green eyes blazing. "The effect would have been miniscule…_if_ a certain _someone_ hadn't decided to assuage their curiosity and 'crash the party'." Murata saw the King's cheeks darken out of the corner of his eye.

"So…" Gunter's voice was soft as he spoke, worry etched into his beautiful face, "I gather that we are not dealing with the norm here. Conrart and Lady Taggert are both half-Mazoku; and as such, neither one possesses any maryoku of their own. There would be no direct effect if it was used on them. The only way that they could be affected by it would be _indirectly_…"

The double-black nodded. "That's correct." Seeing Shibuya's confusion, he tried to clarify, adding "Maryoku calls to maryoku. If both are 'users', a 'direct' link can be formed, like we did in Dai Shimeron when I helped you during the removal of the key from the Forbidden Box." He sent an apologetic smile as he saw the other teen blanch. It was a sore subject, he knew, but it was the best example he could come up with on the spur of the moment. "When only one is a maryoku user, then the effect can only be indirect…"

"Meaning the next time we see Conrart, Gwendal can shake the earth and have a rock fall on his head…maybe it will knock some sense into him…" Wolfram muttered. "Or better yet, I can just form a fireball and burn his _arse_…"

"Wolfram, that's enough." The tone of his voice sending a stern warning, the eldest of Lady Celi's sons refocused his attention back on the Sage, his already deep frown growing even deeper. "Continue."

"Using the same logic, we can also rule out that we are dealing with any type of esoteric power."

"But…" The lavender-eyed male looked almost lost as he posed the question, "…they are most certainly be-spelled; are they not? If we are not dealing with either maryoku or esoteric power, then what _is_ it?"

Murata's expression darkened. "Something older, much older; even older than the magic I used to seal Shinou's soul – and much more dangerous. I suppose, for lack of a better term, that you could call it 'Forbidden Magic'."

There was dead silence in the room as its other occupants took a long moment to digest the former Daikenja's answer and all of its possible, unpleasant implications. Finally, clearing his throat, Yuuri managed to speak. "Murata…will Conrad…_and_ Lady Taggert…will _they_… be okay?"

"Let's say that I am 'cautiously optimistic'; whoever cast the spell simply didn't understand what they were doing, wasn't very powerful, or was just plain careless – or possibly a combination of all three." He took a breath and then continued, "I have been studying the words and symbols that are engraved into the metal of the bracelets that Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert are wearing. There is no doubt in my mind that, as soon as those cuffs were slipped onto their wrists, they no longer had any control over their words or actions. As for the part they played in the 'attack' – they were merely acting as 'channels' for the spell…directing it. Once they were rendered unconscious, the spell lost its focus…it didn't know what to target."

When no one spoke, the Sage went on. "From what I have been able to ascertain about the spell _itself_, in order for it to work all four types of maryoku – earth, water, wind and fire – have to be present. The stronger the maryoku, the stronger the effect produced." He turned to face the King, speaking as candidly as he could. "I was already leery of what was happening; and although it wasn't the _original _reason that I had for not inviting you to the meeting, as the evidence began to pile up and I realized that Forbidden Magic was probably involved and what it might need to work, I knew that you _couldn't_ be present. That's why I was using a container filled with 'holy' water as a substitute in your place – a very _small_ amount – _just_ enough to produce the proof that I needed to confirm my suspicions…" he paused, then finished wryly, quirking an eyebrow at his friend, "…_without_ bringing down the house."

"Oh…I see…" Having the grace to look properly chastised, Yuuri flushed, scrunched down in his chair and had nothing further to say.

It was Wolfram's turn to have a question. "What would have happened – to all of us – if it hadn't been stopped?" The anger that the blond had shown upon entering the room appeared to have evaporated during the Sage's explanation; the only expression registering on his face now being one of morbid curiosity.

Crossing his arms, the double-black turned to him and gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. "Properly executed, I suppose that it would have drained all of your maryoku away, leaving nothing behind but four dry, empty husks." At their horrified looks, he smirked and added, "The emphasis being on the words '_properly executed'_; which this was _not_."

"So, _what_ would have happened?"

"Judging from the damage evident now on both bracelets, I believe that, eventually, they would have failed, and the spell would have been broken."

"_Before_ or _after_ we all ended up as 'dry, empty husks'?" The General asked flatly.

The former Daikenja smiled unpleasantly, his dark eyes hidden behind the glare of his recently repaired lenses. "Ah, now there's the rub!"

Silence reigned again.

Hoping to ease the pressure building in the room, a wide-eyed Yuuri coughed into his hand, drawing everyone's attention. Addressing his friend, he posed the question that had been bothering him for the past several minutes. "Murata, how did you know that the spell involved the four elements in the first place – I mean, what gave you a clue?"

It wasn't just for Shibuya's sake that The Great Sage kept his expression neutral and chose his words carefully before giving an answer; he'd also seen the Adjutant stiffen out of the corner of his eye. _So, you never told the General about the confrontation with Weller Kyo in the baths, did you, Von Christ? You're still so protective of your students; even now._ "Let's just say that an 'incident' occurred that pointed in that direction, and I went looking for confirmation." He finally said, his lips turning up to form the barest hint of a smile as he saw the silver-haired Mazoku relax. "Now that we have it, the next step is to find a way of breaking the spell; _safely_. Until we do, the bracelets that Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert are wearing can't be removed, and they will have to remain unconscious; Gisela and Lady Anissina will be seeing to that. However, even in that state, I wouldn't feel comfortable with all four of you being in the same room with them at the same time. Remember, everything that I am using to base my judgment on right now is merely one 'assumption' after another – I don't want anyone taking any unnecessary risks until everything is down on paper in black-and-white."

The General nodded his understanding and gave a glare to the others in the room to make sure that they 'understood', as well. When no objections were forthcoming, the charcoal-haired Mazoku arose from his chair denoting that, at least as far as he was concerned, no further discussion was necessary and the meeting was at an end; the two brothers and the Adjutant left the same way that they had entered – in silence – the Sage's dark gaze following them out.

Turning his head slightly to look back at Shibuya, Murata was startled by the absolute devastation written all over the other boy's face. "Unconscious? They have to remain _unconscious_; for how long?" Raising moist eyes, he pleaded, "Can't I at least…see him?"

Internally, Murata groaned. _What part of '__**not taking any unnecessary risks**__' was so hard for his young friend to understand? _ Outwardly, he merely smiled, and readjusted his glasses so that they were setting more comfortably up on the bridge of his nose before replying.

"_Before_…or _after _lunch…which you would prefer?"


	12. Seventh-Inning Stretch

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 12 "Seventh-Inning Stretch"**

A fortnight later, long after most everyone else that lived and worked in the Castle had retired for the night, one lone dark-haired figure sat behind the desk in the office that was shared by the General and the King, diligently working on the horrendous mountain of paperwork that had been piled on one-half of its surface. Eying the much smaller stack to its right that contained the documents that he'd carefully read and affixed his signature to, the solitary figure let loose a disheartened sigh, completed signing the paper in front of him, returned the pen to the inkwell and, sitting back for a moment as he waited for the ink to dry, closed bleary eyes. The exhausted teen let his mind meander along a crooked path through recent events, allowing it to set its own pace, knowing that eventually it would end up where it always ended up – on his all-time, number one favorite subject – a certain brown-haired, chocolate-eyed soldier who was currently still 'asleep' in the make-shift infirmary that had been set up in Lady Anissina's laboratory.

~oOo~

_To Shibuya's absolute mortification, Murata had almost immediately started referring to the 'attack' as the 'Chicken Little Affair' – when asked as to how he had come up with such a horrid name, the bespectacled youth had only given an enigmatic smile and crooked an eyebrow at his friend. Yuuri hadn't pushed the matter; a tweak from a guilty-conscious forcing him to be content with merely grumbling his displeasure at both the name, as well as the one who had come up with it. Luckily, 'Chicken Little' had been one of the first children's books that he had brought back from Earth for Greta, so he was spared from the humiliation of having to explain to anyone that happened to hear the name that it was making reference to a story about a chicken that got beaned by a falling acorn and consequently thought that the world was coming to an end._

_Taking some time to sit back and really think about it, he'd realized that his friend's idea of humor had __**always**__ been on the weird side anyway – and time was doing it __**no**__ favors. At this point, he figured that it fell somewhere around 10 points below that of the lowest of the 'lowest-rated' of Conrad's terrible puns (yes, he had started rating them – the paperwork that he'd been working on one day had been particularly boring, and he'd found the quirky idea very amusing). Unlike the soldier, whose bad jokes might be hard on the ears, but whose looks were easy on the eyes (and in the King's opinion, __**they**__ made up for a whole heck-of-a-lot) Murata, as far as he was concerned, had __**no**__ such redeeming qualities –Yuuri swore – if he had to listen to the smirking teen say one more time, in that 'sing-song' exaggerated voice, "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" the next time that they were caught in a 'swirly', he was going to drown the other youth and be done with it!_

~oOo~

Letting a wicked smile leap to his lips for a moment at the thought, it softened immediately as his mind haphazardly turned a corner, bumping into the very subject it had been searching for…

~oOo~

_Every day, twice a day – once, shortly after daybreak, and then again, shortly after nightfall – for each of the last 13 days; Yuuri Shibuya, 27__th__ Maoh of Shin Makoku had made the trek through the long, cold, damp and darkened halls of Blood Pledge Castle, not caring how bad the weather was – giving no thought to how hungry, how tired, how overworked or overwhelmed that he might be – many times pushing himself well past-his-limits, his entire focus centered on one thing, reaching his desired destination – Lady Anissina's Laboratory – where both his knight and Lady Taggert remained, lying in an induced 'twilight' state; comfortable, well-cared for, and safe from prying eyes. Under the General's orders, two guards had been permanently stationed outside the heavy wooden door, with two more taking up positions inside the room; each pairing being rotated every 4 hours so that those on duty remained strong and alert. While this was not out of the norm, the King could not help but smile when he noticed that the guards were all from Gwendal's personal detail – it was just another of the ever-growing signs of the charcoal-haired Mazoku's true affection for his younger brother. The taciturn male's words might be gruff, and his demeanor standoffish, but his actions screamed the truth; and Yuuri loved him all the more for it. _

_As per the instructions that had been given out to everyone by The Great Sage, the dark-eyed teen always made sure to give plenty of prior notice so that none of them, in any one combination – himself, Gwendal, Gunter or Wolfram – would happen to be in the Laboratory at the same time. It was a precaution that his friend had __**insisted**__ they take and, whether it was necessary or not, one he had eagerly agreed to. After hearing Murata's explanations and realizing that everything that the brunet had said and done since returning to Blood Pledge had been carried out while under the influence of the strange 'enchantment' (and, he __**hoped**__, the prior few weeks, as well) Yuuri had done an 'about-face' and had become nearly desperate to see the soldier. In his desperation, he would have been willing to do almost anything – even if he had been asked by the former Daikenja if he would be willing to give up his favorite game of baseball in return for the privilege, the smitten teen wouldn't have hesitated a second before answering with a resounding 'Yes!'…_

_But he wasn't going to let __**Murata**__ in on that fact. Knowing the other double-black, he'd never let him live it down._

_The young King spent a major portion of each visit assisting Gisela in taking care of his incapacitated Knight. He found doing so comforting; it settled his nerves like nothing else could, let him forget about his weariness and helped him regain his focus. He made sure to listen attentively each time as the green-haired Mazoku gave instructions as to __**what**__ needed to be done, in-what-__**order**__, and repeated them back in a soft voice to make sure that he had gotten them correct – after all, he wanted to help, not do anything that would put the male further in harm's way._

_Dealing with the handsome half-Mazoku in such an intimate fashion left the shy teen red-faced most of the time – he couldn't help it; even so, Yuuri carried out each task assigned with a dogged determination – in conjunction with all the gentleness and tender affection that his enormous heart could muster. Under the healer's careful watch, he helped bathe him (all but the 'private' parts – there was no way he could do __**that**__!) and shave him (he would have to remember to bring more batteries back for the electric shaver – there was NO way that he was using a straight-razor on __**his**__ soldier!) feed him liquids, in very small doses (lifting his head so that he wouldn't choke – he swallowed by reflex) and gently massaged his arms and legs to keep the blood flowing; Gisela, in turn, doing the same for Lady Taggert, who lay in a bed across the room, hidden discreetly behind a folding screen. After the first week had gone by, and there was still no word from those hunting for a 'cure' that one had been found and that the couple could be reawakened, Gisela had added motion exercises to the set routines, explaining that they were necessary so that Lady Taggert's and Conrad's joints wouldn't become stiff and their muscles begin to atrophy._

_And that was the way he had spent his time…_

~oOo~

The soft smile slipping into a frown, his mind jumped forward to more 'recent' events and he felt a cold, hard knot of worry settle in his stomach.

Yes, that was the way that he had spent his time…until _this_ morning.

~oOo~

_Not having to be concerned about disturbing anyone any longer, Yuuri was able to rise as early, or retire as late, as he deemed necessary. Greta, after she had been told of the engagement's cancellation, had taken to sleeping in her own room – disappointed and a bit apprehensive at first, once she had been reassured by both that it was a 'mutual' thing and, except where some 'legalities' were concerned, that their relationships wouldn't really be changing all that much – had needed very little time to readjust. Within moments, she had stopped referring to the emerald-eyed Mazoku as 'Papa Wolfram', replacing it with the cringe-worthy 'Uncle Wolfie' instead; much to Yuuri's amusement and the blond's dismay. The russet-haired little girl then turned-the-tables; wasting no time before finding the most perfect way to deeply embarrass her adoptive father – by asking point-blank who her new 'other Papa' was going to be._

_As for Wolfram; he had taken up residence in his previous quarters, stating that, as the King's 'ex-fiancé', he was no longer afforded the 'privilege' of staying in the Royal Bedchambers under 'societal propriety' – continuing to do so would be looked down upon by the Aristocracy; to say the least, most of the Nobility would consider it terribly ill-mannered – a few would find it downright vulgar. When reminded that no 'official' announcement had, as of yet, been made, he had merely turned his nose up and said with a sniff that it didn't matter – __**he**__ knew, and that was what counted. Yuuri had gently smiled, understanding without being told what he was really saying – that it wasn't really his own reputation that he was concerned about, but that of the King's – and had given his 'approval', adding a soft "You will be missed" that brought a dusty pink to the other male's cheeks._

_As for__** this**__ morning – it had started out like all the thirteen others before it. The double-black had been all set to indulge in what had quickly become his normal 'start-of-the-day' routine – first, taking care of any 'personal' needs (he'd wondered quite often if Wolfram had __**ever**__ had to sit down on a __**cold**__ toilet seat, but had never been able to work up the courage to broach the question to the fire-wielding Mazoku) and getting dressed; then summoning Dacascos, sending him out with the by-now 'standard' message confirming that he would be spending his 'usual' time in the make-shift infirmary, and warning everyone else to 'stay away'. Finally, if time allowed, he would grab a quick breakfast that could be eaten on-the-run (usually consisting of a couple of slices of bread, a piece of cheese, a fried egg, and some rashers of Shin Makoku's rather unique take on Bacon – it was __**purple**__, and __**no**__, he had __**never**__ asked, and he really __**didn't**__ want to know!) the last bite of which was usually being swallowed just as he made it to the Laboratory's door._

_**This**__ morning, he had barely had time to shrug into his jacket and fasten his trousers, before the knock had come. Thinking that the bald-headed soldier had finally taken some initiative and decided not to wait until being called, the young Ruler had crossed the room, smile at-the-ready as he opened the door. That smile quickly died when he saw who it was that waited in the hall._

"_Murata…? Is everything all right? Has something happened? Is Conrad okay? And Lady Taggert…" The flow of words came to a halt as The Great Sage held up a hand. _

"_Shibuya…Weller Kyo's and Lady Taggert's condition remains unchanged. However, I do have news…"_

_Swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat, Yuuri could hardly get the question out, "Good news or…bad news?"_

_The bespectacled teen's eyes had disappeared from view as his head had dipped, his mouth morphing into a tight line. _

"_That remains to be seen."_

~oOo~

Opening his eyes, the weary male sat up straight in his chair, his back popping as he stretched; glancing at the clock and seeing the lateness of the hour – it was nearing two in the morning – he dropped his head, wondering if it was even worth the effort it would take and the time it would waste trying to make it back to his chambers, knowing that his wake-up call would be coming long before he was ready for it. Deciding that it wasn't, he made himself as comfortable as possible on the sofa that sat against the furthest wall in the now slightly chilly room, and was asleep the second his head hit the red-and-gold velveteen pillow whose only use, up until that point, had been as decoration.

That was where Gwendal found Shin Makoku's Ruler, four hours later, as he arrived to start his regular shift. Without skipping a beat, the tall Mazoku soundlessly crossed the room and opened a drawer in the built-ins under the window. A few minutes later and the softly snoring teen was carefully tucked under a knitted throw, warm and comfortable, as a new fire flickered to life in the fireplace. The General, after giving strict orders to the guards outside that _he_ was not to be disturbed, for _any_ reason – short of life-or-death – for at least the next _four_ hours, took up residence at his desk, a cup of tea near one hand and a pen in the other, the barest beginnings of a smile touching his lips as he glanced at the slumbering figure of the King. A split-second later, the smile was gone and the mask that the indigo-eyed male usually wore slipped effortlessly back into place as he turned his attention to the tedious tasks that lay before him and began tackling the work of the day.


	13. The Game Resumes

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 13 "The Game Resumes"**

What finally propelled Yuuri out of the 'Land of Nod' and through the last vestiges of the fog of sleep began with something that had become a rather commonplace occurrence in his life as of late; the growling of a growing teenager's severely neglected stomach. His happily twitching nose had sent a not-so-subtle 'hint' to his brain that there was food nearby; the signal had made a detour along the way, and now the empty, and very grumpy, organ was demanding that he wake and feed it – and it was not going to take '_not now_' for an answer.

His other senses were sending 'shout-outs', as well. 'Touch' registered the soft warmth in which he was wrapped, 'Hearing', the light scratching noise that could only be the result of the act of someone putting pen against paper; but before 'Taste' had time to sample a dry mouth and the distinct beginnings of morning-breath, dark eyes were snapping open, as the slumbering youth's body's internal clock kicked him _hard_, then thumbed its nose, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he had severely overslept. The resulting panic had the male rolling off the couch and into a heap on the floor before he could take his next breath, his legs tangled up in the handmade throw he had been covered with.

"Ouch!"

A light chuckle answered his pained declaration. Rubbing his head as he winced, he glanced out of the corner of one eye at the amused form of his friend, his own lips turning down into a slight frown. "What time is it?"

Murata shrugged, leaning forward to pour himself another cup of tea. "Nearly noon."

"Noon!" Yuuri gasped in shock, "Why didn't someone wake me?!" Detangling himself from the coverlet wound around his legs, he scrambled to his feet; the reason behind his unhappiness and agitation no great mystery to the bespectacled youth relaxing in the chair catty-corner across from him. Sitting down on the sofa, Shibuya watched as the other double-black smirked.

"Don't worry about Weller Kyo. Wolfram took your 'shift' this morning; Von Voltaire will be taking this evening's. _You_ need to rest." The Sage's forming half-smile disappeared and he raised a brow as the other started to protest, daring him to argue. "You also need to _eat_. You can do _that_ while we talk."

_That's right. He said that he had news…that there might be a way to break the spell, but he didn't give me any particulars yesterday morning. _Noting the expression on his friend's face and recognizing the tone in his voice, the King admitted defeat, giving a little huff. "Okay." Taking the cup of tea he was offered, he then grabbed a sweet-roll, devouring it as he waited for the other to begin.

"As I told you earlier, I believe that we _might_ have found a way to break the incantation. It's taken quite a bit of research…the magic being used here is so old, that there is barely any reference to it in any of the literature, even as the framework for a 'fairytale', much less any factual accountings of its existence jotted down in the history books; there are certainly no detailed instructions on _how_ to use it lying around in some old Spell book." He sighed.

Yuuri reached for another sweet-roll. "But…you _said_ that you'd seen something like it _before_…"

"Yes, well…there _are _times when remembering things from a previous life _can_ be helpful…though, not _often_…"

The young King held back a grimace as a prior conversation with the former Daikenja on that very subject bubbled its way to the surface from deep in his memory. It was accompanied by an image of the other double-black's face – lined with sadness and pain – as he spoke of the broken trusts, and the harsh treatments he had sometimes received when his 'secret' had been revealed. Understanding what a touchy subject this was for his friend, he nudged the discussion along. "So…how _did _you manage to track it down?"

Murata's smile was grim. "Since the books in the Castle's Library weren't of any help, we went to another 'source'." Looking at Shibuya as if warning him that what he was saying was for 'his ears only' and should go no further, he continued. " Not very many are aware that there are ancient scrolls that exist which contain information that predates the 4000 year old history that is recorded in the tomes in Shin Makoku's Royal Archives – they are sequestered away in The Great One's Temple, under the watchful eyes of Ulrike…and Shinou, himself." His earlier smirk returned as his friend's eyes widened comically; depositing what was left of the second roll on the small plate in front of him, Yuuri leant forward, hanging on every word. "That's where I've been. Ulrike and I have been searching through the scrolls. It wasn't easy. Not only was the language used an archaic form of what's being used now, but some of the scrolls were actually damaged…though these amounted to a small portion of the overall total of documents being kept there. The biggest problem that we ran into was directly related to the age of the parchments themselves and the ink that was used…the writing had started to fade, which made deciphering it even more difficult."

"What exactly did you find?"

"A 'breadcrumb' here, a 'breadcrumb' there…but those 'breadcrumbs' began to add up and form a trail which, as we followed it, began to give us an idea as to _why_ there was no mention of the Forbidden Magic in any of the later stories or books in Shin Makoku."

"Why was that?"

The Great Sage pointed to the half-eaten bun still on the plate that was resting on the low table. Yuuri rolled his eyes, but took the hint; picking it up, he finished it off in two large bites. "Satisfied?" He asked with a sour note in his voice.

"For now." Murata answered, picking the story back up where he'd left off as if there had been no interruption. "The Forbidden Magic users were forced out of Shin Makoku. Whether it was by the Originators, by the early Mazoku, who at that time was still a small nomadic tribe, or by someone or something else entirely, we will never know; but by the time Shinou and my former self fought the Originators, sealed them away in the Forbidden Boxes, and established Shin Makoku, they had been gone for over a thousand years, and any of the knowledge that they might have left behind had already faded into history." He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. "I was, however, able to form a theory of what direction they might have taken, and where they had eventually ended up."

The King stared at his friend, the strange edge to his voice suddenly making the teen unsure if he really wanted to _know_ what the other double-black was about to tell him. He eyed him hesitantly, batting the 'pros-and-cons' of knowing against not knowing back-and-forth for half-a-minute, before going ahead and unhappily muttering the question that he seemed to be waiting for.

"And _that_ was?"

"Seisakoku…" Murata was not surprised by the other teen's groan. He'd felt like doing a bit of that himself after he had first made the connection. Their experiences with 'The Divine Sword' had been far from pleasant from the very beginning; in the far-off land of its origin, Seisakoku, they had nearly lost Shibuya's brother, Shouri; to the nastiness that had followed them home – Queen Alazon's single-minded pursuit of Yuuri and the battle that followed with Janus, where both Yuuri and Shinou had ended up being drained of most of their maryoku – the King's to the point where most had believed that it was gone forever. No, in regards to this subject, both of them were in perfect agreement; it didn't matter whether she was Saralegi's mother or not (even _he_ couldn't stand her; granted, he had very good reasons) dealing with her and her warped ideas of Governing the _first time_ around had been _more_ than enough for _everyone_ involved – they wanted nothing more to do with the Shinzoku and their Leader.

"So…what do we do _now_?" _Please don't tell me that we have to go back there!_ Large dark eyes sent a silent plea to the bespectacled teen as he waited nervously for the answer.

"Hopefully, I found a way to 'skirt' the issue of having to deal directly with Alazon. I sent a message a few days ago to Shou Shimeron asking if they had any information that might be helpful."

"You sent a message to Sara?"

Murata shook his head. "No; the message went to Berias. Being Alazon's brother, and a full-bloodied Shinzoku with houryoku who actually grew up in Seisakoku, he would be the most likely one, other than the Queen, to have been exposed to anything pertaining to Forbidden Magic."

_That's right – Sara is half-human, half-Shinzoku – and he grew up in Shou Shimeron_. It made sense. Yuuri nodded his head. "Have we heard anything back?"

The Great Sage nodded. "I received a message four days ago. He said that he had 'found something' and would message me again when he figured out if it was important or not…" Before he could continue, he was cut off by a series of sharp taps, which had both of their heads turning abruptly towards the lightly frosted casements on the far side of the room. The tapping was soon followed by the warbling of multiple 'coos', and Yuuri watched, the hope growing, as Murata arose from his chair, crossed the space and proceeded to open the middle window. Gently scooping up the carrier pigeon that rested on its sill, he retrieved the tiny, rolled up parchment that was secured in the pouch around its neck, before sending it on its way, pulling the sash down quickly to keep the winters chill from invading. Unrolling it carefully and letting his eyes scan over the meticulous writing, a tiny grin began to grow on the bespectacled youth's face.

"Well…Is it from Berias?! What does it _say_?! Come on, Murata..._Spill_!"

"Yes; it's from Berias. He's received leave from Saralegi and he's coming to Shin Makoku. In fact, according to this, he left Shou Shimeron the same day that I received the first message, and by my calculations…" The former Daikenja paused a moment as he did the math in his head, then continued. "…if he doesn't run into any problems along the way, he should be arriving at Blood Pledge sometime early this evening."

Any disappointment that Yuuri _might_ have felt upon hearing that Sara wouldn't be accompanying his Knight-slash-Uncle to The Great Demon Kingdom never even had a chance to register; it was quashed into nonexistence by the overpowering realization that gripped the young King that Berias wouldn't bother making such a trip unless he'd actually found something that would truly help. And that 'insight' sent his heart a racing, lifted his lips upwards to form his first true smile in weeks and set his dark eyes aglow.

_**That**__ look suits you so much better than the one that you've been wearing lately, Shibuya, my friend!_ Normally the Sage was one to keep his finer emotions safely held under lock-and-key – his badly scarred heart fiercely protected by a defense mechanism built up over many lifetimes. However, this time Murata threw caution to the wind and allowed himself to grab onto the rather sentimental thought with both hands, willingly embracing the rush of warmth that spread through him as he answered the other double-black back with a genuine smile of his own. _And __**damn**__ Shinou anyway and his crazy plans; you have my solemn promise, that no matter __**what**__ happens, I'll do whatever I __**can**__ – whatever it __**takes**__ – to keep it there._

~oOo~

Berias's horse gave a harsh snort and a loud, displeased whinny as he jerked hard on the reins, forcing it to come out of a half-gallop and into a sudden and violent stop on the path that some might, if they stretched the truth quite a bit, call a road. Shaking its head in its agitation, the Black Stallion continued to snort and nervously 'clop' in place as its rider narrowed sharp eyes at the obstacle currently barring his way – an orange-haired male, sitting atop a Gray gelding, smack-dab in the middle of the trail. The black-haired Knight remained silent as he waited for the other to address him first; even though he was making this journey at the behest of Shin Makoku's Leaders, taking into consideration the events of the not-so-distant past, the Shinzoku male was still cautious – unsure of whether the one in front of him should be considered friend-or-foe.

Yosak had to stop himself from laughing out loud at how easily he could 'read' the other through his body language – it was a dead-giveaway as to what he was thinking; and the spy had to admit that, since he liked Shou Shimeron's King's protector about as much as he liked its King (the amount of which could easily be measured, with room to spare, in the thimble that he used when he had to mend his lucky dress) it gave him a somewhat perverse thrill to let him stew-in-his-own-juices for a few minutes as they engaged in a intense 'stare-down'. Finally, having grown tired of his little 'game' and figuring that he had wasted all the time that could be spared on such a petty matter, he straightened in the saddle and giving a gentle tug on the reins, turned his horse back towards Blood Pledge, letting a little smirk slip as he saw the other begin to relax and follow.

The silence remained unbroken as the half-Mazoku led the way back to Shin Makoku's capital; the other male moving up in small increments until they were riding side-by-side. Gurrier couldn't help an inward chuckle when it was the Stallion's rider who ended up speaking first.

"You were sent by your King to meet me?"

"That's partially correct; I was sent by order of the King and The Great Sage."

"You are called Gurrier…"

"I'm surprised that you remembered."

"I am…"

"Berias…_I know_." Bringing the Gray to a halt, an action that was quickly copied by his traveling companion, the spy pinned the other with a gaze of shocking blue, his normally genial features transforming into something hard and deadly. "And I know _why_ you are _supposedly_ here. But, let me give you fair warning. Try anything like you did last time… bring harm to any under my watch …step out of line for _any_ reason …and you'll wish that you'd stayed in Shou Shimeron with your nephew, the King." He paused, watching the other closely as his words sank in.

After a moment, Berias nodded. "I understand. You have my word as a Knight; I am here only by request…and only to help."

The orange-haired male's easy-going expression returned as quickly as it had left – topped off as usual by its trade-mark smirk. "Then, might I suggest that we waste no more time and hurry along…there are things-to-do and people-to-see…or it that people-to-do and things-to-see…I forget sometimes." With a barking laugh, he faced forward and gave the Gray a swift kick, urging it into a full-gallop; showing no surprise at all as the dark-haired Shinzoku, with the raise of a haughty brow and a bemused twist of the lips, did the same.

~oOo~

_It's so…__**dark**__… _Was Yuuri's first and foremost thought, as those that had gathered in his and the General's shared office stared at the roughly cut crystal that resided in the intricate handmade gold box with wide-eyed fascination. Nearly six inches long and half as large in circumference, it lay on a bed of crushed red velvet; its color so rich a purple that one could almost be fooled into thinking it was black. Drawn to the stone like iron filings to a magnet, the young King found himself reaching out to touch the gem; his wrist was caught and his arm quickly pulled back by the bespectacled double-black standing next to him as the stone reacted to the attempt, sending out a pulse of raw energy – and unfamiliar _magic_ – that had him suddenly doubting the wisdom of continuing with the course of action that had been suggested.

Looking at his friend with worried eyes, he swallowed thickly as he asked again, "Are you sure that this is safe to use, Murata?" It was Berias, however, who replied.

"The crystal is nothing more than a container. The power that it holds is the key you need to break the spell and unlock the bracelets. Because the spell itself uses the four elements to work, and you are a water wielder, it is responding to your nearness; that's all."

"So…are you saying that there's no way it could harm one of us, then?" Wolfram raised a delicate brow; the contempt he had for the other male obvious in the fiery emerald gaze that he aimed his way – dealing with Saralegi, or_ anyone_ connected to him, gave the blond a bad case of heartburn. "Do you really expect us to believe that?"

This time, Murata _did_ answer. "As far as I can tell, after reading over the documents that Berias brought along with the stone, he _is_ telling _half_ the truth. If a maryoku user with a contract to one of the four elements tried to handle the _bare_ crystal…" He paused, cutting his eyes sharply towards Shibuya who winced and wisely remained silent, "…the end result would be something akin to the story of, say, a person who was able to drink themselves into a stupor almost in the blink-of-an-eye; who missed out of all of the fun that comes along with that activity, if there is any, and eventually woke up with a hang-over to end all hang-overs – about a week later." He shrugged, focusing his gaze forward again. "Other than that, it should be fine." He frowned at the stares directed his way by the most of the other occupants in the room; sending a glare back to each – the General, the Adjutant, Yosak and finally to Von Bielefeld – he added, "It's not like we have much of a choice. It's either this, or we let Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert remain 'asleep' and we keep searching. But frankly, we're running out of time. Gisela has made it very clear that we might have another week – two at the most – before the stage is reached where the healing magic that she has been using will no longer be of any help – the damage done as their bodies start to break down will be permanent – and if they have to stay 'under' even _longer_ than that, the only option that will be left open to us would be to do the same thing to them that was done to Von Christ when he was poisoned and Von Bielefeld Kyo when his heart was taken as the key to one of the Forbidden Boxes…"

Recalling the events his friend cited left Yuuri feeling slightly nauseous and set his own heart thumping painfully in his chest. "You mean…remove their souls…and freeze their bodies…?" The solemn stare and the silence that the other double-black returned gave him his answer. Dropping his chin, he focused on the floor, swallowing hard around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat as he pictured his Knight…his handsome _'Lion'_…with lips tinged blue and frost on brown lashes, silent and unmoving…and _cold_ to the touch…

_No._ There was _no_ way. He would _not_ let _that_ happen.

Keenly aware that the decision on how they were to proceed lay solely upon his shoulders, and that the others in the room – Gwendal, Gunter, and Wolfram; Yosak and Berias included – were also awaiting his decision, the boy King of Shin Makoku took a deep breath and raised his head, meeting the firm gaze of his Sage with one equally as steady. "How much time do you need to get ready?"

"Give me until tomorrow afternoon."


	14. Oh, Say Can You See

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 14 "Oh, Say Can You See"**

_As the meeting wound down to a close, they had all begun to talk quietly amongst themselves; coming to the conclusion, as a group, that it would be best for everyone to eat a light meal and retire early – but before the meeting was formally adjourned and they had a chance to go their separate ways, Murata had decided to drop one, last little bit of important information on them that he thought that they should know; informing those assembled that, according to what he and Ulrike had puzzled out after thoroughly going over all the ancient documents that had been supplied along with the crystal and the other 'relics' from Shou Shimeron, anyone who would be participating in the 'revival' ritual (which was what they were calling it – 'De-Hexing' would actually be more precise, but it was a bit 'awkward' rolling off of the tongue) of Weller Kyo and Lady Taggert would have to undergo a 'Ceremony of Purification' before they would be allowed into the inner sanctum of The Great's One's Temple, where the 'be-spelled' couple would be lying 'in-wait'. _

_When he had named off the short-list of whom that included – Shibuya, Yosak, Gisela, himself, Ulrike and Berias – bedlam had erupted in the room. He had barely managed to make himself heard over the angry shouts coming from Wolfram and the concerned protests that were being squeezed from a nearly-hyperventilating Gunter; even though all he had received was a silent glare from the General, the vibrations he'd felt under his feet had let the Sage know that the stoic male was just as unhappy with his decision as the other two. They __**all**__ went silent; however, when the former Daikenja reminded them of what had happened the __**last**__ time that the maryoku wielders of all four elements had been in the same room with Weller Kyo and his faux 'intended'. _

_Once the grumbling had died down, the King had finally spoken up, wanting to know exactly __**why**__ they were being moved from Blood Pledge to the Temple in the first place. The other double-black had explained that the reasons were three-fold; first, the Temple had been constructed out of a rare stone, one that was much stronger than the one used for the Castle. Secondly, besides being stronger, it also had other special 'properties'; and this particular stone was quarried at only one place in Shin Makoku, and had to be brought in by wagon from quite a distance, which was the main reason why the damage that the Temple had suffered during the fight between the 27__th__ Maoh and the possessed First King had taken so long to repair. _

_Last, but not least, was the fact that Shinou's help would be needed in setting up and empowering a protective barrier – a necessary precaution, just in case there was an important detail somewhere along the way that had been missed and a problem arose (which was quite possible, seeing as to how sketchy the available information was in regards to the source of the power that was behind the Forbidden Magic __and how it really worked). The barrier would not only protect the two 'sleepers' but, hopefully, also those trying to 'awaken' them. When Wolfram had broken in, hotly contesting the fact that Yuuri was being allowed to attend, saying that it was 'too dangerous' (the emerald-eyed Mazoku found the __**very**__ idea of Shinou Heika being the one seeing to his 'ex-fiancé's' safety almost laughable) his statement had been met with a glare from Yuuri that was as caustic as Shin Makoku's young Ruler was capable of making it and by the sharp lift of the Sage's eyebrow – who went on to calmly remind 'Von Bielefeld Kyo', that since both Yuuri and Shinou were water-benders, only one type of elemental maryoku would actually be present in the chamber, and that Shibuya had been taking care of Weller Kyo for nearly two weeks without a problem._

_ The blond had shut up after that; but couldn't shake the worry gnawing away at him, or his deep irritation at being relegated to playing 'second-fiddle' to a 4000 year-old ghost. And to make sure that everyone present was made aware of just how strongly he felt about the matter, he let that 'displeasure' roll off of him in waves so strong that they threatened to superheat the very air that those in the room were trying to breathe._

~oOo~

A few hours later, inside the Royal Bedchambers, Yuuri, lying on a bed that now seemed ridiculously large and unusually cold with only one person in it, was finding sleep to be an elusive animal. His heart aching and his mind swirling with 'could-haves', 'should-haves' and 'what-ifs', he tossed and turned, trying to get his body comfortable enough and his mind settled enough to get some sleep before the 'dawn of a new day'; the phrase, in this case, was _not_ being tossed around as a pretty 'idiom', but was being used in a truly_ literal _sense. According to Murata, the purification ceremony _had_ to be performed at _sunrise_ – the individuals involved would be 'cleansed', as well as the objects that each would be using in the ritual – then they would be sequestered away inside The Great One's Temple's innermost chamber until after Conrad and Lady Taggert had, hopefully, been reawakened. As soon as the sanctum's doors were secured, the participants would draw the necessary diagrams and place their respective items in the proper order; and the rite would begin. The whole thing gave Yuuri the 'willies'; it reminded him way too much of some of the scenes from the scary movies that he had accidentally caught brief snatches of as he'd switched channels on the television the last time that he'd visited back home – the imagery _that_ brought to mind had the double-black groaning and clutching the pillow over his head and agreeing with Wolfram, just this _once_ (which he would _never_ admit to _anyone – ever_) that he _was_ a 'wimp' – to the nth-degree.

And, if he were to be brutally honest, the teen would have admitted that, at _that_ very moment, he would have liked nothing better than to be able to find the nearest puddle and take a flying leap back to Japan, run to his mother and wrap himself safely up in her arms.

There was _one_ thing stopping him; and one thing _only_.

And that was the thought of the _other_ pair of arms that he wanted so badly to be wrapped up in…and the sparkling brown eyes…and the gorgeous smile…and the silken voice…

With another loud groan, the King sat up, throwing the pillow across the room, the bed's glacial expanse given even more emphasis by the way his thoughts had bent. Tears of loneliness, frustration and worry began to gather in his dark eyes; all of which were quickly dashed away and forgotten when he heard the sharp rapping on the Chamber's doorframe. His heart suddenly in his mouth as he wondered if something had _already_ gone wrong, the double-black shot off of the bed and sped across the room, pulling at his blue pajama bottoms along the way (they were a bit too long) so that he wouldn't trip, to hurriedly fling open the wooden door…

…only to find Wolfram standing there, brows raised, his hands on Greta's shoulders (who was clutching her favorite knitted animal, a rabbit – 'it's a kitty', Gwendal would have grumbled – and looking like a proper princess in her frilly, cream-colored nightgown) and the _both_ of them looking at _him_ as if he had grown another head; at least that was the case, _until_ the blond noticed how pale the other male was and caught the tell-tale sheen in his eyes that told him that his 'instincts' had been correct. Giving the girl's shoulders a slight squeeze as she looked back and up at him with wide, dark brown eyes, he stood a little straighter, sniffing lightly before speaking, as if what he was doing was nothing out of the ordinary – just another 'everyday occurrence'. "_Greta_ couldn't sleep…and I thought that _you_ might like some company…" He stopped there, letting his words hang in the air. Yuuri's expression softened and he gave his 'ex-fiancé' a somewhat forlorn smile – he understood what _wasn't _being said by the prideful Mazoku, and perhaps for the very first time, realized just how _well_ the other knew _him _– and was trying to take care of him; in his own peculiar way. Unable, or unwilling, to break convention and offer the consolation that the King so badly needed, he had sought out a 'willing' ally – one no one would be able to point a finger at or complain about.

Kneeling down in front of his daughter, the double-black's smile widened a bit. "Is that so, Greta? You can't sleep?"

"Uh, uh…" She shook her head; Yuuri observed her carefully as she nibbled worriedly at her bottom lip – it was something that she only did when she was holding something back; a tell-tale sign that she wasn't telling the _whole_ truth. Usually, he would give her a gentle scolding and make her 'spill-the-beans', but in this case, he _knew_ what she was hiding. He could see it in her eyes – the fact that she had already been sound asleep – but, wanting to help in any way she could, she had left the warmth and comfort of her own bed to seek shelter in his, so that he wouldn't be alone; no doubt, at Wolfram's request…

"Alright, then…why don't you go ahead and get comfortable; okay? I'll be there in just a minute…" Standing up, he stepped aside to let Greta pad past him into the room, watching her make a bee-line for the bed; and then focused dark eyes on the silent blond waiting in the hallway. "Thank you, Wolfram." He saw the male nod, a troubled look shadowing his sharp green eyes, his lips turned down into a soft frown.

"Try to get some rest, Yuuri. And…" He hesitated, before quietly continuing. "Be _extra_ careful tomorrow…_please_. I know Geika will be conducting the ritual…along with Ulrike…and Yosak will be there, too…but I _won't_ be…and neither will Gwendal or Gunter…" He stopped, as if struggling to find the words that he wanted; when they couldn't be found, his frustration led him to finish with a rushed, "Just…take care of yourself; all right?" before spinning around and marching swiftly away.

The double-black waited until the other had slipped around the corner and was out of sight, before he backed up and slowly closed the door. Turning around, he shuffled his way over to the bed, a gentle smile touching his lips as he noted that Greta, along with her 'rabbit', was curled up under a sheet and two of the huge, down-filled duvets; and was, apparently, already in heavy slumber, if the soft snores he was hearing were any indication. Sighing, the teen slipped under the outer cover and cuddled up to his little girl's back, letting her physical presence ease away the emotional chill nipping at his heart, even as her body warmth slowly chased away the actual chill of a previously too-empty bed.

Not long after, both father and daughter could be found, dreaming nothing but pleasant dreams, as, together, they sailed happily along, deep in the 'Land of Nod'.

~oOo~

In what seemed like no more than the blinking-of-an-eye – there was nearly an hour and a-half still left before the sun was yet to rise – the King found himself being rudely awakened by the insistent beeping of the alarm on his waterproof wristwatch. Sliding out of his nice warm bed, being as quiet as he could so as not to disturb his bedmate, he immediately began shivering from the cold that now dominated the room's moisture-laden air. He dressed in record time; donning the clothes that he had been wearing the night before – sans the standard 'underwear' (black 'G-strings' were so _not_ his thing) just for convenience's sake. He knew that it really didn't matter – Murata had already explained that those participating in the 'Ceremony of Purification' (Ulrike, who was about as 'pure' as you could get was, of course, being excluded from that list) and the ritual that followed, would be swapping their regular attire for a special robe and a pair of sandals – that was all that they would be allowed to wear until the actual rite to awaken the couple began; then, even _those_ would be dropped. Yuuri sighed and hung his head, resigned to his fate.

The first thing that the 'man-of-his-dreams' was going to see upon awakening was going to be a circle of naked men – with _him_ at the forefront.

Oh, _Joy_.

He didn't _even_ want to _consider_ how _Lady Taggert_ was going to react…

~oOo~

Breakfast was a simple affair. A piece of cheese, a slice of bread and some fruit, and the group was on its way to The Great One's Temple, en mass. Conrad and Lady Taggert, following strict instructions from Murata and under Gisela's watchful eyes, had already been moved; their bodies had been cleansed and prepared with herbs and fragrant oils as had been detailed in the ancient documents, and now rested head-to-head; each atop their own personal 'altar' within the inner sanctum – both underneath sheets of the finest un-dyed linen, which really served no other purpose except to provide them with a small degree of modesty, since the only articles that remained on their otherwise pristine frames were the bracelets that both had been cursed to wear.

The purification rite that the other members were forced to undergo was actually simpler than it had at first sounded. After removing their clothes, they were taken to a 'regular' bath, where they washed the 'normal' way – a good and thorough scrubbing, followed by a quick rinse and a short soak. Once that was done, and they were pronounced 'squeaky clean', they were led away to another bathing chamber that had been set aside for those participating in the ceremony – its waters had been specially prepared with herbs and oils that paralleled the ones used on the 'sleeping' duo. Here, they not only 'bathed' themselves again, head-to-toe, but also the relics that each would be using during the ritual. Once that had been accomplished, they were allowed to don their robes and sandals and enter the Temple's 'holiest' chamber.

~oOo~

_Earlier, Yuuri had taken a few minutes to examine each of the relics closely, starting with his own. There were four all together, and were really nothing much more than shallow bowls chiseled out of different colored crystals, which had then been carefully set into hand-wrought silver bases. Amber, blue (his), light amethyst and red; each color representing one of the basic elements. They weren't overly fancy, but the workmanship on each was meticulous; that, combined with the fact that they were thousands of years-old, had left the young Ruler shaking his head, absolutely amazed that such fragile-looking things had managed to survive** at all**, much less intact and undamaged._

~oOo~

Now, finally secured within the thick walls of the Temple's inner chamber, the young Ruler of Shin Makoku, with a burning red face and a hard swallow, stepped out of his sandals and let the robe slip from his shoulders, as he carefully moved into the center of the diagram that had been drawn onto the smooth stone floor. Placing the purified vessel that he had been entrusted with atop the pedestal which displayed the symbol for his element, he watched as Murata, whose pedestal bore the symbol for air, quickly followed suit. 'Fire' was next – Yuuri thought it was appropriate that Yosak had been assigned that one, taking into account his hair color – with the last to be placed being the one held by Berias; his dais' emblem signifying 'earth' as its matching component.

Before turning and catching the Sage's slow and almost comically exaggerated nod to Ulrike – which was the signal that they had all agreed would signify that everything was set and that they were ready to begin the actual ceremony – Yuuri, out of the corner of his eye, saw Gisela take up her position against the wall slightly to the left of the 'altars'. She had undergone the purification so that she could enter the chamber, but had no role in the rite itself; her only function, if the need arose, would be to use her power as a healer – another layer of precaution that The Great Sage had insisted upon, in case something went wrong.

The young King said a quick and fervent prayer that she wouldn't be needed and returned his attention to the task-at-hand.

Facing forward, he watched as Ulrike very carefully placed the Gold Box that contained the dark crystal onto the column that had been erected at the center point between the twin 'altars' on which Conrad and Lady Taggert lay; reaching up, she hesitated a moment, her large amethyst eyes betraying her nervousness as they shifted to lock gazes with the former Daikenja's. He gave her all the reassurance that he could without speaking, which was communicated by another 'affirming' nod, followed up by a slightly grim smile. Taking a deep breath, the 800 year-old medium again focused her attention on the golden chest in front of her, gently removing the lid and placing it to the side. Once that was done, she quickly stepped back and away, not wanting to be near, any longer than she had to be, a magical force of which she had neither great knowledge of, nor control over – and which held a power that was so unlike the maryoku that infused every particle that made up the world _she_ lived in. And then…

_Nothing happened._

Shibuya blinked, trying desperately to swallow back down the heart that had been beating so wildly just a few seconds earlier in his chest. He glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye, searching for a reaction; the other double-black seemed very surprised and totally perplexed – with his brows drawn together, his eyes hidden behind a glassy glare and his mouth pursed in annoyance, he looked every bit the image of the proverbial college professor whose favorite 'theory' had just been trashed and booted to the curbside. Another minute went by, and when there still seemed to be no change, Yuuri felt despair start to kick in, the bile rising into the back of his throat as the horrid thought flashed through his mind that everything that they had done to get to this point had been for nothing – and that Conrad – and Lady Taggert – would both end up being condemned to spend 'eternity' as ghoulish 'living popsicles', hidden away in frozen coffins in a dank, dark corner somewhere in the outermost reaches of Lady Anissina's lab.

It was then that _something_ pulled his attention back to the center podium. It took a split-second before his brain registered what had drawn his eye, since the difference between what he had seen 'before', and what he was seeing 'now,' was so very subtle. The dark crystal had begun to glow – very, very faintly. As he continued to watch, its radiance grew – the shadowy light it was emitting imparting a heaviness to the air that had his mouth going dry and had his heart knocking hard against his ribcage.

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. One by one, the relics answered the dark crystal's 'siren's call', as each began to emit their own luminescence; the intensity of which continued to grow, until the relics themselves, just like the crystal, could no longer be seen – the only thing registering to the naked eye being five separate spheres of energy.

The next thing that caught the teen's focus was the murky-crimson glow that was seeping its way through the cotton sheeting that had been draped over both Conrad's and Lady Taggert's unmoving forms. It took his dazed mind a few seconds before it could make the connection that the source of the unholy light had to be the bracelets, which were the only things that each still wore underneath the light covering. He watched, with ever-widening eyes, as the sickly illumination wormed its way along, until both were completely limned in the same awful shade of angry blackish-red.

And then…the world exploded…_literally_. There was a blinding flash of light that left nothing but spots before his eyes and a rush of power that seemed to draw every last ounce of air from his lungs. Blinking furiously, the double-black stumbled backwards, away from the pedestal that now contained nothing more than the charred remains of a ruined relic. He heard the warning shouts coming from the others in the chamber, but his mind refused to process them as his clearing vision sought out and settled on the form of his much beloved soldier…

…That was when the horror set in.

Unlike Lady Taggert, whose grisly light had faded into non-existence and who remained in gentle repose, the Knight was still entrapped within his hideous and fiery prison, and was no longer lying serenely beneath the un-dyed cloth under which he had been hidden. It had been flung violently to the chamber floor as the brunet bucked and writhed uncontrollably atop his 'altar', brown eyes open and unseeing; his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.

It was too much.

It was _all_ too much.

The others in the room watched in total awe as the young King's body began to glow an unearthly shade of blue. His hair lengthened and his stance straightened, making him appear to grow taller in height; and the softness in his face melted away, revealing the angular lines of one who was well into adulthood. But it was the change that occurred in the male's dark orbs that captivated them the most. Still framed by luxurious, long lashes, they lost their roundness, becoming almost almond-shaped – the inky-black pupils now nothing more than cat-eye slits – their gaze radiating with a wisdom that was countless centuries old.

The Maoh had _finally_ arrived.


	15. Top of the Ninth

I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 15 "Top of the Ninth"**

_Magnificent!_

It was the only word of the few that managed to filter their way to the forefront of the stunned Shinzoku male's mind that even came _close_ to describing the scene that was now unfolding right before his eyes.

The Maoh of Shin Makoku was _truly_ a splendid creature. Limned in a striking florescent blue – ivory-skinned, flawless-in-form and long-in-limb; with his shoulder-length dark hair swirling in the incredible eddy of energy created from the very maryoku that he wielded, he was unlike anything that Shou Shimeron's Knight had ever seen. And as he stood motionless, transfixed by the radiant figure, Berias had a sudden flash of insight; final understanding dawning as to what honestly fueled his nephew Saralegi's all-encompassing, single-minded obsession with the boy Ruler of The Great Demon Kingdom.

The Maoh himself was, without a doubt, a thing of rare beauty; but it was the sheer raw power held within the Earth-born male that was absolutely _breathtaking_.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the frighteningly beautiful display that had stolen both his breath and voice, he settled for raking an appraising eye around the room, noting how, and _where_, the others had ended up when the crystals had imploded. The green-haired healer was still standing; hair mussed and robe torn, she seemed a bit wobbly, but the wall against which she had been leaning had saved her from taking a hard tumble. Ulrike, who stood just off to her right, unlike the taller female, had not a hair out-of-place. Berias noticed that the tiny medium's pale cheeks were dusted a very becoming shade of pink and her amethyst eyes were saucer-wide; he did not have to trace their line-of-sight to know what held her interest. It seemed that he was not the _only_ one in the room who held an appreciation for the exquisite perfection that was Shin Makoku's Demon King in 'Maoh mode'.

The Great Sage and the orange-haired spy had not been so lucky; both had been toppled by the surge effect created by the enormous outpouring of power. However, as they had gone down, the older male had somehow managed to wrap his arms around the much smaller double-black; using his larger body to cushion the other's fall, saving the younger from what could have been serious injury. Both were now sitting on the floor; the teen, his back against his savior's chest, was still enfolded within the other's strong embrace, and was resting between the half-Mazoku's spread-eagled legs. The dark Knight watched as the bespectacled youth, with a heavy blush on both cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, mumbled something to his 'captor', then broke the hold and scrambled to his feet. He also acknowledged the look of disappointment that passed over the elder's face as the boy raced away; it went unnoticed, however, by The Great Sage – his focus now solely pin-pointed on his number one objective – making it across the room and to the side of his friend.

As for the relics themselves, they had been almost totally destroyed. Only the dark crystal remained completely intact and undamaged; although its appearance had altered dramatically. All of its energies now spent, it lay inside its hand-forged golden casket – inky-black in color, its surface dull and its body totally 'lifeless'.

~oOo~

_Shinou's protective barrier, as planned, had managed to deflect most of the force of the implosion and the resulting shockwave around-and-away from the 'living' in the room, by diverting the forces at the last split-second towards the walls of the Temple. There, the hand-hewn blocks, thanks to the remarkable 'properties' of the stone out of which each was made, acted like the rough version of a thirsty sponge, managing to draw in and store the massive amount of leftover energy that had gone unused in the only partially-successful ritual._

_Along with its extraordinary strength, that unique ability had been the overriding reason that the Original double-black Sage of Shin Makoku had used the material in the construction of the Temple in the first place. When Shinou had been 'tainted' by the evil of the Originators, and nothing could be done to cleanse the King's body of the impurity that it carried, the Daikenja had sought a way to save his friend's soul from the darkness that was slowly-but-surely consuming him. This stone, and a foray into the dangerous realm of dark magic, had provided the answer; as unsavory as it had seemed at the time, and as unwise as history had proven it to be, it had been the only option left open to the grieving dark-haired Mazoku male. So, for over four thousand years, Shinou's 'soul' – his 'life-force', some might call it – had resided within the Temple's 'holiest-of-holies', surrounded and protected by the maryoku held in each carefully placed piece of rock that made up the inner chamber's walls; the whole acting as a substitute for the physical form of flesh-and-blood that he no longer possessed. _

_Now, those very same walls held two powers that were diametrically opposed, and the struggle between both, one to be dominant over the other, was giving the Original King quite a headache, as he fought desperately to keep them contained and under control. They crashed head-to-head like raging bulls, slipping through his 'grasp' several times before the foreign magic finally yielded; the visual effect from the battle, at times, making the walls appear to bow outward in some places and wave in others, as the harried specter literally 'chased' the brawling energies all around the room._

~oOo~

The first thing that registered, as Shin Makoku's second double-black's senses started working again, was the shocking difference between the hard coldness against which his bottom rested and the strong warmth that embraced him. There was a sharp intake of breath as he realized what had happened and where he had ended up; and when the concerned spy leaned forward, asking if he were all right – the puffs of moist air from the spoken words caressing the shell of his ear – the other male's closeness, and the unorthodox predicament, immediately had the teen's cheeks sporting a deep flush.

~oOo~

_The Great Sage had long ago accepted the fact that he found the spy of Shin Makoku extremely physically attractive. He was a wickedly handsome male, and though the double-black's eyesight was not the best, he would have had to be close to blind not to see it. However, as handsome as the orange-haired half-Mazoku was, it was his keen mind and sharp wit that had drawn the bespectacled youth's closer attention. Later, the former Daikenja had come to realize that Yosak Gurrier was one of the few people, besides his friend Shibuya, Weller Kyo and Ulrike, in whose presence he was comfortable staying for any extended length of time. In truth, he had always felt a strange 'connection' with the Shin Makoku agent – from the very moment that they had first met – which was why the spy had been given the 'gift' of being the first to know the double-black's 'real' identity. He had found it very easy to drop the 'mask' that he always wore and speak openly and honestly with the amiable male. But, therein lay the danger, and the bespectacled teen had quickly recognized it._

_The 'mask' had swiftly returned and he had pushed his burgeoning emotions back behind the psychological 'walls' that he had built, re-imposing what he considered a 'safe' distance between himself and any possibly of 'attachment' to those around him – once, again. But the damage had been done. By the time that Shibuya had been forced to fight Shinou in order to reclaim his body and release the Original King's tainted soul, he was already infatuated with the happy-go-lucky cross-dresser and the 'warning flags' were flying high. When both double-blacks had been compelled to return to Earth, he had done so with an admitted sigh of relief; but that 'home-coming' had turned out to be short-lived. After they had been drawn back to Shin Makoku so that his classmate could reassume the mantle of King, the 'reincarnate' had found himself wearily taking on a problem that had plagued him over-and-over again throughout the ages – how to use the reason of the mind to tame an unreasonable heart._

_How many times had it happened before? How many times in his previous lives had he bowed to temptation, cast logic aside and given away his heart, only to have it returned to him, bleeding and broken? He'd lost count over the centuries. But even as 'sanity's sake' had forced him to expunge the names and faces of those who plied his favors with such 'lovely lies' from his movie-reeled memory, one important truth had remained…_

_The names might be erased, and the images made to fade, but the hurt – the feeling of rejection; of betrayal, and loss – was __**not**__ so easily forgotten._

~oOo~

Without looking back, Murata muttered a quick "Thanks for the help"; then pulled out of the older male's embrace and clambered frantically to his feet, his dark eyes locked on the Maoh's resplendent form. Even as he made his way to Shibuya's side, his brilliant mind was moving on from personal troubles to the problem-at-hand, carefully re-examining all the information it contained regarding the two different kinds of magic involved in the activities of the day, and working out what might have gone wrong. In the less-than-half-a-minute it took him to reach his destination, he had already formulated a theory; a sweeping glance over Weller Kyo's slowly calming form had him saying a silent prayer that he was correct.

Cat-slit dark eyes, full of worry and anger, locked gazes with his; a tight-lipped mouth remained closed, the voice silent as the Maoh words slid straight into the Sage's mind.

"_**What did we do **_**wrong**_**, my Sage? Why did the ritual **_**not**_** work?"**_

The Great Sage answered back in kind. _"_**We**_ did _**nothing**_ wrong. The instructions we were given were followed _**to-the-letter**_. And the ritual _**did**_ work. Lady Taggert _**has**_ been released."_

"_**Then **_**why**_** has my 'Lion' not been freed from the chains that bound him?"**_

A frown twisting his lips, the former Daikenja turned his face partially away, his eyes once more making a running pass over the heavily breathing, but now otherwise still, figure atop the left 'altar'. _"The only possibility that comes to mind is that there might have been a second spell – perhaps, one involving an aspect of reinforcement or protection – applied to Weller Kyo's bracelet; one that would only become active if someone tried to tamper with, or break the original invocation that had been cast. It's just a guess…there was no mention of any such spell of that type existing in any of the ancient documents Ulrike and I went over; I'm using the magic of Earth as the basis for my theory. If there had been _**anything**_ that had given the slightest _**hint**_ that something like that was possible…that something like that had been done, I would have…"_

"_**My Sage…there is **_**nothing**_** for you to feel guilty about…I place no blame on your shoulders for what has happened. The blame, along with the justice that I will impart, I reserve for the one who performed this **_**horrid**_** deed. But my 'Lion' is **_**suffering**_**, and **_**that**_** is something my heart **_**cannot**_** bear. Have you **_**no**_** wisdom to impart? Is there **_**no**_** path we can travel to return my beloved Knight to my side?"**_

"_I have an idea…it's childishly simple, but it's risky."_

"_**Risky in what way…? Is it **_**more**_** dangerous than what we are faced with **_**now**_**?"**_

"_No…."_

"_**Then **_**how**_** do we proceed? What **_**must**_** we do?"**_

"_Do you remember what I told Von Bielefeld Kyo about the bracelets?"_

"_**I do."**_

"_Alright, then… since the 'mystery guest' that set up this trap seems to be _**hungry**_ for power, we are going to be good 'hosts' and _**give**_ him what _**he**_ wants." _ The bespectacled double-black's smile was completely without humor; his already dark eyes darkening even further._ "To be more precise, we are going to break the last remaining 'link' in the magical chain he forged by using the basic nature of his spell against itself."_

~oOo~

Surprise, disappointment and frustration; Yosak couldn't recall how long it had been since he had felt those particular emotions – on a strictly _personal _level. And he was sure that he'd _never _felt them as strongly as he felt them now, as his 'captive' broke his hold and quickly sprang to his feet. He watched in silence as the dark-haired teen sprinted away from him, a cloying sadness worming its way into the churning emotional mix as his eyes followed him across the room. He wasn't sure what act it was that he had committed that had lost him the Earth-born male's trust, but he was desperate to get it back – he missed the relaxed atmosphere, the easy camaraderie that they had once enjoyed – in truth, the orange-haired half-Mazoku had, at one time, held out hope that their friendship might progress into something more.

But then the 'change' had come. He'd noticed a difference when Yuuri Heika and The Great Sage had returned from Earth during the 'Let's choose a new King' fiasco; a slight reluctance on the part of the bespectacled double-black to be alone in his company, in anything _other_ than a 'official' capacity; a hesitation which had only grown more pronounced as time went by.

Now, the blue-eyed spy felt as if the distance between them was widening, yet again.

And he had no idea as to _why_…

Let alone, _what_ to do about it.

~oOo~

The Maoh watched with sharp eyes as his Sage motioned over the tiny Shrine Maiden and Von Christ Kyo's adopted daughter; voice low, he quickly explained the situation and what was shortly-to-come. Both faces paled a bit at what they were being told, but neither made any effort to argue the matter; Ulrike merely bowed, while Gisela nodded her understanding, and then the pair moved off, the medium positioning herself at the end of the 'altar' on which Weller Kyo lay, while the healer began to examine the brown-haired soldier for injuries. Turning back towards the King, the double-black was just about to give his friend one last word-of-warning, when he was startled by the feel of something being dropped across his bare shoulders. Whirling around, his surprised eyes met with shocking blue and he watched as the spy's mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "I didn't want you to catch a cold, _Geika_." Glancing over at the Maoh, the re-frocked orange-haired male held out the second robe he'd snatched up by the shoulders, in-offering. "May I, Your Majesty?"

Long-lashed onyx eyes narrowed, and one delicate arched brow rose, even as a tiny smirk lifted the Maoh's lips; each word spoken in the silken voice almost a light caress. **"Do you have a **_**problem**_** with the way that I am **_**attired**_**, Yosak Gurrier? I assure you; **_**this one**_** will **_**not**_** 'catch a cold'." **

The half-Mazoku couldn't believe it – he was _actually_ blushing – at _his_ age; clearing his throat, he answered, choosing his words carefully. "No, sir…not at all…but _Yuuri Heika_ might feel a tad-bit better… _not_ being left so open and…_'exposed'_."

The Maoh's expression softened at the mention of his 'other self'; his dark gaze becoming thoughtful, and then warming as he nodded, slowly. **"Your concern is noted, Gurrier. You may do as you wish."** Turning around, he allowed the spy to hold the robe for him as he slid his arms into the flowing sleeves. Knotting the sash as he twisted back to face him once again, he gave a slight smile. **"You have **_**our**_** Thanks, my friend."**

"It was _my_ pleasure, _Your Majesties_." Wearing a roguish grin, the Shin Makoku male gave a slight bob of his head and a wink; then, with one final, quick, longing look at the silent double-black standing to the side, he returned to the other end of the room, taking up his original position behind the pedestal of 'Fire'.

The poignant glance given to his friend by the retreating male did _not_ go unnoticed by the King; but that was a problem for another day. **"There was something that you wished to say, my Sage?"** The question thrown at the former Daikenja served its purpose – dragging the obviously rattled teen's attention back from wherever it had fled.

Blinking his eyes a few times as he tried to gather his many scattered thoughts, the bespectacled youth finally spoke. "Yes; I wanted to clarify a few things before we go any further. When the second-spell was activated, it caused Weller Kyo quite a lot of pain…" Here he paused; catching Gisela's eye, he saw her give a relieved smile and shake her head. He nodded back as he continued, "…but apparently, no real injury. I believe the effect, at least _this_ time, might have been meant more as a type of 'warning', than anything else. However, if we persist, next time, that _may_ not be the case."

"**Explain."**

The Sage sighed deeply. "The logic behind the concept I've proposed is sound. We feed the bracelet energy until it shatters; that _will_ break the spell. However, the amount of power that it will take to do that will be _enormous_; the second-spell will no doubt kick in again to prevent the original charm's destruction. _Both_ things being factored in – there will be pain; quite a bit of it – _and_ I can't guarantee that before all is said-and-done that there _won't_ be actual physical damage; or how _bad_ it may be. It all depends on how strong the second-spell is, how quickly the bracelet fails and the original spell breaks; _and_ on Weller Kyo himself. You already know the _other_ options that are open to us. Taking everything into account, is _this_ still the course of action that you wish to take?"

The Maoh's countenance darkened as he digested the other's words, his concerned gaze drifting over to settle on the subject of their discussion. He was silent as his eyes traced the soldier's features, noting the heavy shadows under the eyes and the lines of pain that now marred a stunningly handsome face that was, much, much too pale. Mouth downturned into a deep frown, the King's focus returned to his friend, his solemn gaze locking with the one coming from the other double-black. **"The **_**choice**_** you have given me is really no **_**choice**_** at all. He **_**cannot**_** remain as he is; and given the option between spending an eternity in the false safety of a frozen sleep or the chance to win true freedom, even though the odds against success might be great…I **_**know**_** my 'Lion'…if he **_**were**_** able to choose for **_**himself**_**, I have **_**no doubt**_** what his choice **_**would**_** be." **The Maoh's obsidian eyes hardened, smoldering with a deadly fire. **"There is also a villain to apprehend. Make no mistake; there will be **_**no**_** leniency on my part…**_**no**_** mercy granted or forgiveness given for the harm that this one has caused."**

"On _that_ point, we are _very_ much _agreed_. Well, then…it seems that there's only one thing left for us to do." The Sage's smile returned, taking on a dangerous twist of its own. "So, what do you say we quit wasting time and get this '_show_' on-the-road?"

~oOo~

Gunter frowned, his brow creased with worry as his lavender eyes scanned the area of courtyard showing just below the arched library window. It was not yet mid-morning, and its eerie emptiness grated painfully against nerves that had already been rubbed raw from the events of the past few weeks.

Looking from his vantage point on the second story, the Temple's octagon-shaped tower could just barely be seen in the distance, the rest of the structure hidden by the heavy line of trees that surrounded it; their foliage thinned, but not yet entirely lost to the harsh coldness of the early winter.

He was so lost within himself, his concentration completely focused on the site that held so many things that were precious to him, that the General's arrival went entirely unnoticed; a problem that was rectified when the stoic male spoke.

"Gunter…"

At the call of his name, the startled Adjutant spun around with a gasp, one hand coming to rest over his heart. "Gwendal; I'm sorry! I didn't hear you come in."

"Apparently not…" One heavy brow lifted; his frown growing as he waited for the other to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. Shin Makoku's Highest-ranking Officer was _not_ happy, and he was about to let the other male know it; and in _no_ uncertain terms. Yosak had drawn him aside just before leaving for the Temple to have a few words – intentionally or not, in the midst of their conversation, he had let the information 'slip' about there having been an 'encounter' between the silver-haired male and Conrart in the baths. The details that the spy had been able, or perhaps _willing_, to supply regarding the matter had left the picture a bit sketchy; and even though the indigo-eyed earth-bender wanted the aide to fill-in-the-blanks, more importantly, he wanted an explanation as to _why_ Gunter had kept him in the dark about what had happened.

He hadn't figured out the reason behind it yet, but just _hearing_ that the beautiful Mazoku had kept such a thing from him in the first place disturbed him greatly…

He had questions.

He wanted answers.

…And until he got them…

Neither of them was leaving the room.

~oOo~

_Lady Taggert had been awakened by Gisela, been given a quick, but thorough 'going-over' and sent to recover in one of the guestrooms within the Temple compound. Immediately after that, the bespectacled double-black had quickly repositioned the remnants of three of the four relics that had been used in the early-morning ceremony, lining them up on the floor beside the 'altar' that continued to support the incapacitated Knight. The signature of magic in each was weak and fading fast; but enough remained for the crystals to serve the purpose for which they were needed._

_When the former Daikenja had called his plan 'childishly simple', he wasn't being disingenuous about the matter, at all._

_It was almost a mirror-image of his original 'experiment'; this time, in reverse. The crystals were being called upon to be the 'stand-ins' for the living benders of earth, fire and air that were missing from the room; while the Maoh played the role that had once been reserved for the container of 'holy' water. Per Murata's instructions, the King had forcedly reined his maryoku in, so as to not to chance activating either the original spell, or its protective counterpart before they were ready; the other double-black continuing on, imparting a stern warning that, no matter what happened – no matter what he saw or what he heard – he must, throughout it all, maintain an iron-clad grip over the power that he held or risk causing serious injury, not only to himself, but more importantly, to the precious soldier that they both were trying so very hard to save._

~oOo~

It was a hard concept to grasp for some; the duality that existed within the body of the boy King of Shin Makoku. If ones judgment was based entirely on what could be seen and what could be heard, someone might think that his was a case of two different 'souls' residing in one body. The few that believed such a thing would be correct in pointing out the fact that both forms – the 'before' and the 'after' – differed greatly in appearance. It would also be accurate to note that 'each' referred to the 'other' as though 'he' were a completely separate entity, many times exhibiting thoughts and feelings that seemed to be polar opposites of one another. But things seen by the eye and heard by the ear can be misleading. The truth was actually far simpler. The 'Maoh' was a 'projection' of what the boy King would one day become; the 'personality' forced into existence whenever the teen was faced by situations he could not control and instinctively called upon the abundant maryoku that he wielded. As those around him helped forge, and time and experience temper, the framework of his emotions and as his body matured, these two 'personalities' would slowly blend together. On the day that process was complete, the world would finally witness the birth of the 'true' Demon King.

That was a day that many looked forward to.

It was also a day that many others feared.

Now, looking down into the face of his beloved soldier, the Maoh of Shin Makoku felt the level of anxiety from his 'other self' rising, matching that of his own. Both of them were desperate, and both of them were determined; each 'side' wanting nothing more than to have the brown-haired male with the smiling eyes safe and sound and back where he belonged – to once again be blessed with his warmth, as well as his laughter. To be given the chance to share their love – along with all of life's joys and sorrows – for whatever time the gods may have seen fit to grant them; walking side-by-side and hand-in-hand, with the man who had so long ago captured 'their' heart.

So, with his long-time friend standing by his side, the King reached out; taking the soldier's left hand in his right and lacing their fingers together, he closed his eyes, calming himself, as well as his 'twin', as he awaited the 'pull' that he knew was forthcoming, and would be the signal that the spells 'appetite' had been kindled.

He didn't have long to wait….

~oOo~


	16. Breaking for Home

A/N: First, let me offer my apologies for the outlandish delay between the last update and this one. They say that when 'life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade'. I have been drinking an extraordinary LARGE amount of that 'beverage' these last few months.

First, the relative that I live with had a horrible accident which resulted in a broken left leg and a fractured right. Then, the patriarch of the family passed away. Last, but certainly NOT the least of the 'lemons' thrown at me, was waking up one morning in severe pain and discovering, to my horror, that my right arm and hand weren't functioning properly. As I am naturally right-handed, you can imagine how difficult even getting the daily 'necessities' done suddenly became. The first tests were inconclusive, and physical therapy did not seem to help much, so the testing to find the cause of the compromise in function continues, while I now find myself relegated to 'hunt-and-peck' typing using only one finger of my right-hand; and I can only do that for a few minutes a day before the hand becomes unusable. I WILL be continuing ALL of my stories – I ask that you bear with me and thank you for your kind support and your patience in advance.

A kind 'Thank You' also goes out to Subaru who caught a format error that I had made in an earlier chapter; I totally agree with you! Also a 'Thank You' to the guest reviewer who caught my use of the wrong adjective when describing one of the main characters; all corrections have been made…the story is easier to read…and the Daikenja is a _much_ happier fellow!

And now the standard disclaimer: I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh!, nor do I make any profit from its use…I only own the love I have for its characters, its warmth and wit and the hidden truths and gentle wisdom its author has woven throughout the storyline…oh, and 'Ali'…

* * *

**Chapter 16 "Breaking for Home"**

_Cold…_

_It was so __**cold**__…_

_A 'to-the-bone' chilling, mind-numbing, heart-stopping, cold…_

…_And __**dark**__..._

_And he was so __**alone**__…_

…_So very, very…a__**lone**__…_

The brunet was trapped – encased in a vast, fluid, amoeba-like prison – the screams of fury and cries of panic that managed to work their way past the constriction in his throat disappeared immediately into the shapeless blue-black abyss, leaving behind no proof that they had ever existed; the surreal absence of sound cocooning him in a soul-shattering silence.

Even the flow of tears that painted silver trails as they slipped over cheeks much too pale left no warmth in their wake, as his aching heart and troubled mind tried to find focus – reaching out for something to grasp; something to cling to – desperately attempting to keep hope and sanity from slipping away; to prevent them from vanishing into the roiling void and being lost to the endless shadow and its suffocating quiet forever.

Reaching…always reaching…

Reaching out for the _light_…

Reaching out for _warmth_…

Reaching out for…

_Yuuri…_

~oOo~

_What was that?_

A harsh intake of breath and dark eyes snapped open; the Maoh's head dropping as his sharp gaze was inexplicably drawn to his fallen soldier's face. Onyx orbs widened as a tear broke from beneath long brown lashes; he watched as it followed the curve of a pallid cheekbone to land on the cool stone, its trip bringing it dangerously close to the tip of the half-Mazoku's ear. The first was quickly followed by another, and another. Soon, the trickle became a flow, and the flow became a torrent; when The Great Sage's voice finally broke the quiet in the room, it took all the Maoh's will to rip his gaze away from the tear-stained face on which it was riveted and switch his attention to the male standing at his side.

"Shibuya…you _have_ to concentrate. I know that, under the circumstances, it isn't easy…but you _have_ to do it. You know the old Earth saying, 'The end justifies the means'? In this case, it truly _does_…"

"**He is calling to me…"**

_Calling to him? _The bespectacled double-black's eyes narrowed as his mouth drew into a tight line. All of those who were close to the Throne were well aware of the strange connection that existed between the King and his Knight; it had helped save the young Ruler from great bodily harm on more than one occasion and, even though no one knew exactly how it operated, its existence was something that they no longer questioned. But that 'link' had always seemed to be heavily weighted in the Knight's favor; Weller Kyo had been in danger many times, and the Earth-born teen had sensed little, remaining basically 'clueless'. What was different in this instance?

One glaring dissimilarity immediately shot its way to the front of the Sage's mind – this time, Shibuya was in 'Maoh mode', and all of his 'sensitivities', tactile and otherwise, were extraordinarily heightened. He was 'aware' of the world in a way he could never be when he was his 'ordinary' self.

Secondly, Weller Kyo was not only in very close proximity, but the Maoh's _entire_ attention was focused on the fallen soldier. There were no outside 'distractions' to draw it away – no leaking Forbidden Boxes or esoteric magic wielders to fight; no chases or escapes to be made – so it made perfect sense that the unspoken 'messages' from the half-Mazoku that had heretofore gone unheard by the teen-aged Monarch now resonated clearly. Under different circumstances, the former Daikenja would have welcomed such a thing; now, however, its untimely 'activation' was only serving to interfere with the concentration needed to reach their main objective – the destruction of the bracelet and the breaking of the spell.

And that was _exactly_ what was bothering him. The _timing_…

The Sage paused a moment; playing 'the Devil's advocate', he quickly threw out all of his prior ideas about what might have triggered the bond and awakened the King's latent ability and regarded the situation strictly from their adversary's point-of-view. Looking at it with fresh eyes, he didn't like the picture that he saw; it gave rise to ugly possibilities and was unsettling on many different levels. While it was true that their enemy might be incompetent when it came to using magic and crafting incantations, it didn't make him any less dangerous; in fact, it made dealing with the skewed end product even more perilous, since it could 'branch-off' in ways that wasn't intended.

But, if the differences that he had come up with really had nothing to do with the King's newly-born receptiveness, that left only two possibilities, both of which were highly unpleasant – one; the change in the link was the by-product of an ill-conceived spell gone awry…or…

Two; the unblocking of the 'other side' of the 'pathway' was intentional, and it was doing _exactly_ what their unknown foe intended for it to do – distract the King – which meant that, 'bungler' or not, their opponent knew more about the teen Ruler and his aides than he should…

_That _particularline of thought opened up an entirely _different_ 'can-of-worms'…

"Listen to me carefully, Shibuya. I understand. I am also well aware that instinct tells you to try and follow that 'voice'. But, you can't do that. First-and-foremost, we need to break the spell. If we do that, Weller Kyo _will_ be released. Focus on that alone and try to disregard everything else; alright?" He watched as the other double-black took a deep breath, the cat-slit eyes closing again as the Maoh's grip on the soldier's hand tightened.

"**I will try, my Sage. But if worst-comes-to-worst…"**

Murata sighed. "Yes, I know. You'll do what you _always_ do." He gave a rueful smile, even though the other couldn't see it. "And I'll do what _I_ always do." He shook his head as the edges of the King's lips slanted upwards at his statement. "_Concentrate_, Shibuya…"

His half-smile slipping into a frown, the Maoh centered himself once again. A few scattered seconds later, he began to notice an odd feeling; it started in the tips of his fingers, and then spread throughout his right hand – the only thing that he could liken it to was the prickling sensation one might feel after their leg had fallen asleep and was just beginning to wake up.

Almost as soon as he managed to make the comparison, it changed completely; morphing into a 'tugging' that, he realized with a bit of a shock, was unpleasantly familiar. It was the same feeling that his 'other self' had incurred during the 'Chicken Little' incident, but on an extremely smaller scale. There was no pain accompanying it this time – no doubt owing to the twin facts that the spell had been considerably weakened by using the severely damaged (and magically depleted) relics as 'stand-ins' for the other living 'element' wielders, and its foreign magic wasn't being fought against at the moment – but he didn't count on that remaining to be the case.

The Great Sage had already warned him that, once he began exerting control over the amount of maryoku he allowed the spell to siphon away, there would be pain, and its level would go up exponentially as time went on – the spell, in its hunger, would demand to be 'fed' more and more power at a faster-and-faster rate; his task was to supply it in a constant, steady flow, while at the same time jumping up the level of maryoku in tiny increments until the already weakened bracelet reached its breaking point. The main danger that they faced was evident – if he couldn't handle the pain – if he lost control, his 'life-force' could be drained away too quickly, doing the opposite of what they wanted; strengthening the spell, leaving Conrad trapped and him possibly at Deaths door. There could be even more 'nasty' surprises awaiting them just around the bend – unfortunately, they had been left no clues; and therefore, had no way of knowing what else their 'mysterious' adversary might have up his proverbial sleeve…

The risks were great…and those that were not privy to, or did not want to acknowledge, the 'new age' that had dawned the very moment that the Earth-born teen had first stepped foot upon the Demon's world's soil might say that for a King to risk so much for a 'mere soldier' not only went against logic and common sense, but was a fool's errand…

Let them say it. He didn't care.

For Conrad, he would gladly play the fool….on _this_ world….or any _other_.

So, Yuuri Shibuya, the 27th Maoh of Shin Makoku, standing regally in all his 'glory', cleared his mind of all extraneous thought and any niggling doubts that he might have left, and let his maryoku, led by a strong sense of justice and a steadfast heart, start him along the 'path' that he hoped would not only lead him to his sorely missed, errant Knight, but eventually bring him, safe and sound, back where he belonged…

…_Home_.

~oOo~

Gwendal Von Voltaire, General of the Army and First Prince of the Realm, blinked.

…And blinked again.

One dark eyebrow rose, quickly becoming lost in his hairline, as he asked the only question that his stunned mind had enough sense to form. "Would you mind repeating that?"

Across the room, wanting nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, stood a very mortified Gunter Von Christ; his striking lavender eyes wide in disbelief, his cheeks bright crimson, and his right hand clamped tightly over his traitorous mouth…

_Whatever had possessed him to say __**that**__!_

They had been arguing. The stoic charcoal-haired officer had demanded to know the details of what had happened in the baths in regards to his younger brother. The Adjutant had realized immediately _who_ had let _what_ 'slip' (and had angrily made a mental note to give Yosak a giant-sized 'piece-of-his-mind' concerning his errant tongue as soon as said spy returned from The Great One's Temple) then proceeded, reluctantly at best, to describe the event. The General had let his 'displeasure' be known; one thing had led to another and, in the heat of the moment, the truth had flown from his lips before he could stop it…

"_I didn't tell you because I knew that you were already angry with Conrart, and I know that you have a temper! I didn't want to be the one to add 'fuel to the fire'! I didn't want to be the cause of you doing something that you would regret later! I love you too much and…oh!"_

Sighing heavily and closing his eyes, the silver-haired Mazoku lowered his hand, and in a gesture that had become a personal habit (and one the taciturn High-Ranking Officer studying him had always found unaccountably endearing) let it come to rest over his rapidly beating heart; a tremulous, somewhat bitter half-smile sliding onto his lips. "Which part?" When no reply came, he cautiously opened his eyes, only to gasp in surprise as he found that the other male was now standing directly in front of him, sharp indigo eyes gazing down and searching his face with an intensity that almost stole his breath away.

"The part about loving me too much…" The General's words came out in a low rumble as he bent his head down, the edges of his mouth quirking up as their lips met, unable to hide his amusement as shocked lavender eyes widened, and then slowly slid shut.

The last coherent thought that managed to make its way through Von Christ Kyo's rapidly fogging brain was that, once he was done giving the orange-haired half-Mazoku a 'piece-of-his-mind'…

He would have to find some way to say _'Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!'_

~oOo~

There was 'pin-drop' silence in the chamber – it had been that way for the better part of an hour. Standing behind his podium, Yosak watched the scene before him, arms crossed and lips in a tight line as his bright blue eyes darted back and forth between the seemingly unmoving forms of the Maoh and his soldier, and the slender frame of The Great Sage standing pseudo-guard at his side.

Anyone else might not have noticed the minute changes taking place, but as a spy, the orange-haired male had been trained to be highly observant – he had lost count of the 'adventures' that he had been involved in where his life (and very often, the lives of many others) had ending up being saved owing to the simple fact that he'd paid strict attention to the smallest of details. That was why the paleness of the Royal double-black's face and the soft sheen of perspiration on his brow; the slight twisting of the lips, the crinkles at the edges of his tightly shut eyes and the occasional winces were not lost on him – the King was in pain and it was getting worse.

He had 'overheard' the conversation between the Sage, Gisela and Ulrike; he _understood _what was happening. That didn't mean that he had to _like_ it. Yes, he was worried for his long-time friend, and for his King; but his deepest concern was reserved for the bespectacled dark-haired youth that was attending them.

If someone were to ask how he felt about the Earth-born male, the spy's answer would be an blushingly honest one – truthfully, he adored everything about the mysterious youth; as far as he was concerned, although he would never say that he was 'perfect' in the truest sense of the word, he did consider him to be _his_ perfect 'complementary match' – except for one, great big obvious flaw, one that was enough to make the older male see fifty shades of red; and that was the fact that somewhere along the line, the boy had come to harbor the belief that his existence was insignificant in the overall scheme of things. He mistakenly believed that his life only had value because it was 'destined' to be surrendered to ensure the safety of the King's.

It was a belief which with Yosak _wholeheartedly_ and determinedly _disagreed_.

The orange-haired half-Mazoku supposed living through reincarnation after reincarnation could have that effect. He had 'heard' that the former Daikenja retained the memories of all of his past lives. Based on that knowledge, Yosak could understand his attitude; and could only curse Shinou for subjecting the young male to such a torture. And torture it must be – how many times had he lived and died? How many times had he spoke the truth and not been believed, been lied to and betrayed? How many times had he loved and lost; friends, lovers, and family – _and he remembered it all._ After a while, sacrificing himself must have seemed easier and easier as repeated lifecycles and their memories slowly wore way his self-worth –– Life was precious because you _didn't_ know when your soul might be returned…but when it was, you started off with a 'clean slate' – you certainly weren't saddled with carrying the troublesome 'baggage' of the hundreds of lifetimes that might have come before.

It was just one more complaint that he would be taking up with the so-called 'Great One' after this was all over; consequences be damned.

A sudden cry of "Shibuya!" broke the spy's reverie and had him darting around the podium and toward the altars, his heart sinking as he saw the Maoh drop to his knees. He watched as the other double-black frantically slipped behind the shimmering King; placing his hands on his shoulders, he began to radiate an answering golden glow to the others faltering blue, which immediately had Yosak growling under his breath. He had seen this once before. In Dai Shimeron, when they had had to deal with the opening of one of the Forbidden Boxes.

And he didn't _like_ it.

~oOo~

_He had found it!_

_The 'Light'…._

_It was but a pinprick in the inky void…but it was enough to set his aching heart soaring; the once-cooling blood now rushing through his body with a triumphant roar. The resulting warmth spread as the speck grew larger, and the brunet found himself reaching out… clawing his way ever closer to that beautiful flickering blue flame…._

_Inch-by-painful-inch through the perilous 'nothingness' he travelled, his body growing stronger, his movements faster and more fluid the closer he drew to the ever expanding 'absence-of-darkness'…._

_Even so, the explosion of pure, white light when it came caught him completely off-guard; the sound of the shattering bracelet a distant note, filed carefully away, to be remembered at a later date…._

It was akin to the snapping of a rubber-band. One moment he was lost in the murky emptiness and the next brought instant clarity and a return to reality.

Blinking away the last vestiges of tears that he was only vaguely aware of shedding, the brown-haired soldier took a shuddering breath, dimly registering a multitude of things in rapid succession; location coming first. Staring directly upward, he easily recognized the ceiling of The Great One's Temple; but before his mind had time to question as to the reason _why _this was the first view meeting his eyes, or how he had gotten there, his body was sending frantic information to his brain that there were other crucial things that he needed to be made aware of….namely, that he was cold because he was lying on unheated stone….that he could feel the roughness of said stone because he was wearing absolutely _nothing…._

And, most importantly, he was not _alone_….

"Yuuri…" The name had barely passed his lips before he found himself struggling his way into a sitting position; the resulting dizziness quickly being swept away in the tide of astonishment at suddenly finding his trembling arms full of a sobbing, long-limbed, dark-haired teenager whose tight grip was making the act of being able to catch his next breath rather difficult. "Heika….Your Majesty…._Yuuri_…." When the only acknowledgement from the distraught young male to his softly spoken words was the almost incoherent voicing of his name, followed quickly by a rather undignified wail, the nonplussed Knight raised anxious eyes only to be met by the sight of a wickedly grinning Yosak standing behind a slightly red-faced Daikenja, who seemed to (unsuccessfully) be trying to dislodge the taller male's hands from his shoulders.

Closing his eyes with a resigned sigh, the wayward soldier tightened his hold on the blubbering double-black and decided that explanations could wait – right now, he had one _very_ upset King to deal with….

With a soft smile teasing his lips, the brunet stubbornly pushed the memories of the 'nightmare' that he had been living these last several weeks into the deepest, darkest 'hole' that he could find in his still somewhat-shaken psyche as, once again, he allowed 'body and heart' to take their rightful place by his Liege's side – ever grateful for the fact that he was _alive_…that he was _home_…and best of all…

…That _Yuuri _was there…

And in the end, _Yuuri _would _always_ be what mattered most.


End file.
